No Time like the Present
by gluegirl56
Summary: A man from Liverpool ends up dead in the area sparking up a series of events that might turn just as deadly for the police officers in Ashfordly. The stranger isn't as unfamiliar as it first appears and soon Dennis Merton has his hands full to try and sort out everything before it is too late. Will he make it? /As always please let me know what you think ;)
1. Chapter 1

Heartbeat – No Time like the Present

 _Disclaimer:_ Heartbeat is not my creation and doesn't belong to me.

 _Characters:_ Mainly Jenny/Dennis and Liz/Ben

 _Genre:_ Hurt/comfort, crime, drama, romance, mystery

 _Time/Spoilers:_ Set in late season thirteen.

 _Summary:_ A man from Liverpool ends up dead in the area sparking up a series of events that might turn just as deadly for the police officers in Ashfordly. The stranger isn't as unfamiliar as it first appears and soon Dennis Merton has his hands full to try and sort out everything before it is too late.

Unfortunately things don't go according to plan and when it really matters; can Jenny be strong enough for both of them?

 _Beta:_ NuGirl – thank you so much ;)

This story isn't finished so you might need to be a little patient waiting for updates but I'll do my best. As usual, I hope you like it and I absolutely love reviews!

OOOOOO

 **Chapter One – Living on Borrowed Time**

Jeremy Watson ran for all he was worth. His feet splashed through water and mud but he couldn't care less. His mind was set on one thing; survival. The only advantage he had on his follower was that he knew the area. He dared a peek over his shoulder and noted with despair that the man he'd thought he had shaken off in the woods of the Ashfordly Estate was still coming after him. And not only that; he was gaining on him. He tasted blood in his mouth from the exertion but he willed his legs to go on, his once polished shoes were now covered ankle deep in gravel mixed with mud and soaked through. He ran through the fields and away from the large estate until he got into another cluster of trees. The former local man panted heavily as he put his hands on his knees as he came to a full stop. He hadn't been standing there for very long before he heard a rustling next to him. Terrified he felt hands on his arms and wrestled out of the other man's grip but it was to no avail as his opponent was stronger than he was. Jeremy Watson managed to get free for a second only to be tackled to the ground in the next. His eyes bulged as he felt strong arms around his throat and he fought wildly to get away. He choked on the air and his movements become uncoordinated until the resistance finally died.

OOOOOO

Doctor Liz Merrick smiled politely at her last patient for the day as the woman walked out of her office. She let out a sigh of relief and began to rearrange the folders on her desk. She couldn't quite concentrate on her patients today and for that she blamed Ben Norton. She'd caught herself thinking about him, her mind drifting several times, during the day. She was really falling for that guy.

"Right, I'm off then," Jenny said from the other room.

The pharmacist's clear voice brought her out of her reverie.

"I hope Dennis comes home before the evening is over," she added with a slight disappointment as she appeared in the doorway.

Liz turned serious as she raised a questionable eyebrow at her friend. "You married a policeman," she reasoned. "Well, not just a policeman but a sergeant," she added with a slight tease.

The statement caused Jenny to crack a wry smile. "Don't I know it," she replied, lightening up a bit.

"Look, I'm sure he wants to see you much more but he can't just neglect or ignore his job," Liz reasoned. "You know how my working days are sometimes. I can't just take a break whenever I want to."

"I guess you're right," Jenny said softly. "It's just that it's so frustrating at times."

"Well, why don't you and I go out for a drink and you can help me find a reasonable explanation as to why I should pay Mr. Norton a late visit," Liz suggested with a twinkle in her eye.

Jenny chuckled happily, about to say something, when the phone started ringing at the reception. She walked over in two strides, wondering who might be calling after hours, a part of her hoping it would be Dennis.

"Aidensfield Practice, Jenny Merton speaking," she said.

" _Jenny, it's Steve, I'm sorry to bother you but I need to speak with Liz urgently, I hope she's still there,"_ the young police constable said.

Jenny cast a glance toward Liz's office and saw that the doctor was ready to leave. She nodded at Liz.

"She's coming now Steve. What's going on?" the pharmacist asked with mixed emotions, hoping it wouldn't involve her husband.

" _We need to certify a death. Lord Ashfordly's keeper found a man at the outskirts of the Estate while doing his late round,"_ Steve explained.

OOOOOO

Liz drove up the road to the Ashfordly Estate and rounded the Hall, following a dwindling dirt road further away. Lights danced over the hills and among the trees in the fading daylight as she draw near the site. She parked behind the Panda car, grabbed her medical bag and got out.

"Liz," Dennis acknowledged as he detangled himself from the shadows and walked toward her. "This way."

She took a deep breath, preparing for the sight she knew would come. It was never easy seeing a dead person. And not for the first time she wondered why she had agreed to this. After all, it was really a job for the coroner.

Dennis walked past Phil Bellamy who was talking to the keeper. The constable handed over a flashlight to his superior officer and nodded politely at the doctor before continuing the interrogation of the man in front of him.

Liz let out a soft gasp as she saw the man's blue tinted lips and colorless cheeks being illuminated by the sharp pointed light. She moved closer and knelt beside the body of a fairly young man in fancy clothing. She judged him to be around forty years old. He seemed fit and appeared to have been quite good looking. Her medically trained eye immediately recognized the signs of strangulation and she shuddered at the thought of someone being murdered in cold blood just outside the village.

"Dead by strangulation," Dennis suddenly voiced.

Liz nodded. "Yes," she let on sadly. "I cannot yet confirm the time of death but I would guess it happened not too long ago judging by the body temperature and the lack of rigidness."

"Thanks for coming out, Liz, I really appreciate it. I will have a word with the coroner about the upcoming autopsy in the morning," Dennis said and turned slightly at the sound of a car coming over.

Ben Norton swiftly jumped out of his Land Rover and walked up to them as they began to make their way back toward the road.

"Dennis, Liz," he acknowledged, his eyes lingering on Liz a bit longer than necessary before looking back at the sergeant again. "Do you know who he is?" Ben asked curiously.

"No, nothing so far. He just appeared out of nowhere. As of right now, we're at square one," Dennis answered in a neutral voice and nodded at Liz and then Ben as he walked past him, heading for the car.

Ben looked after him for a moment before walking up to stand next to Liz, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, I just don't like seeing dead people, and frankly, it's a bit shocking something like this happens here," she admitted.

"You know what?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think you need a drink. Why don't you follow me home for a while," he suggested.

Liz hesitated for a moment. "I really should be going home, Ben," she answered.

"You don't have to stay long," he offered charmingly.

She gave in to him with a soft smile. "You are nothing but persistent, Ben Norton," she said dryly.

"That's why you like my company," he returned cheekily.

OOOOOO

Oscar Blaketon walked up to Gina, behind the counter of Aidensfield Arms, his expression tight and serious.

Gina frowned as she cast a quick sideway glance at him while filling up a pint. "What's going on Oscar? I thought I heard someone talk about a murder," she said worriedly.

The retired sergeant nodded gravely. "Apparently an unknown man has been found dead at the Ashfordly Estate," he replied.

"How awful," Gina said, shuddering slightly.

"What's with all the serious looks?" Vernon Scripps asked cheerfully as he walked up to them with David trailing behind him.

Oscar eyed him suspiciously. "What are you so happy about, Vernon?" he countered.

The man known for his various business engagements, usually bad ones, smiled cunningly. "Why don't you wait and see?" he said confidently.

"Somehow I don't like the sound of that," Gina quipped. "What can I get you two?"

"Just a pint for me, Gina and…" he trailed off looking at David who had taken off his cap and watched the barmaid with a smile. "What's gotten into you?" he asked turning slightly to look at him.

David turned serious. "I'm sorry Mr. Scripps," he said politely. "It's just that Gina reminded me of my mum. She used to say that," he added.

Vernon shook his head and then turned to look at the barmaid again. "Give him an orange juice," he added.

Oscar raised his eyes to look over David's shoulder, spotting Bernie Scripps as he made his way over.

"There you are David," Bernie said. "I've been looking all over for you. The police wants me to take care of the arrangements for our John Doe, concerning the upcoming funeral should they not find any relatives."

"Who's John Doe?" David asked confused.

Vernon rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"I bet there are many people wondering that right about now," Oscar mused.

"It's not his real name, David," Gina explained. "It's what they call people unknown."

"So, Bernie," Oscar began curiously. "No one knows who he is and what he's doing here?"

The garage owner and undertaker shook his head dejectedly. "No," he let on.

OOOOOO

Dennis Merton awoke to the smell of coffee as Jenny carefully balanced a tray with breakfast into their bedroom. He blinked heavy eyelids open and then closed them again as he reached up to massage his forehead, the headache from the day before still lingering.

"Good morning," Jenny greeted happily as she placed the tray at the night stand and bent forward to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Morning," he mumbled. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine," she replied.

"Nine?" Dennis echoed as he shoot up into a sitting position. "I should be at the station…" he began.

"You looked so tired yesterday and I didn't have the heart to wake you earlier," she said softly, her voice gentle and caring.

"Jenny," he complained lightly. "I have a murder enquiry to take care of. I need to contact DI Shiner again. Then I need to talk to Doctor Craven, who's in charge of the autopsy, and take statements," he said, his tone urgent as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. "Preferably before the Chief Constable is breathing down my neck."

Jenny sighed as she sat down at the edge of his side of their double-bed which he had just vacated. She watched as he shrugged out of his pyjamas and hastened out into the nearby bathroom. She gloomily watched the tray of food and coffee left for him.

Ten minutes later Dennis emerged from the room, freshly shaven and showered. He grabbed the uniform that hung haphazardly over the chair next to his bed and quickly got dressed.

"Jenny," he said softly as he noticed she was still sitting on the bed looking troubled and disappointed. "I'm sorry. I wish the circumstances where different," he said regretfully as he quickly closed the distance between them and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"There is always something," she said icily as he straightened and turned around to face the mirror, to knot his tie. "I just feel like I'm in the way," she added.

He adjusted his standard uniform tie and belt before turning to face his wife. "I assure you; you're not in the way. I can't live without you," he assured her.

"You have a funny way of showing it," she returned.

Dennis sighed, trying hard to refrain from rolling his eyes as he moved over to sit down next to her. "Jenny, listen," he began as he put his arms around her middle, "There was a reason why I wanted to marry you. Sometimes I forget…how fortunate I am to have you," he said and broke into a grin as he looked at her. "What could you possibly see in an old man like me?" he added lightly.

Jenny couldn't help but chuckle at the boyishness suddenly displayed on his face. "I don't know. Maybe it's that Scottish charm of yours?" she said with smirk.

Truth to be told she'd just wanted to help him out in the beginning, when he had been diagnosed with diabetes, but then as time went by she felt drawn to him and then it had gotten to a point where she couldn't really live without him. They had grown together and no matter how annoyed and irritated he made her at times she could no longer imagine a life without him.

Dennis leaned in to give her a kiss which she gladly returned and then reached over to grab the sandwich and cup of coffee she had prepared for him. "I better go," he excused himself.

"When do you get home today?" she asked carefully.

"I wish I knew," he replied. "I really wish I knew."

OOOOOO

To be continued


	2. Who Are You?

**Chapter Two – Who Are You?**

Steve looked up from the file he was studying at his workstation as his superior officer walked through the door. "Sarge, DI Shiner called in earlier. He wanted to let you know he's on his way," he informed.

Dennis nodded, taking off his hat as he walked into the duty room. "When was this?" he asked.

Steve tilted his head to see the clock. "About an hour ago," he answered.

"Then he won't be too far away then," Dennis said, his voice carefully neutral. "Anything reported?"

"No, it's been quiet as a pub when dawn breaks," Alf said as he walked out from the kitchenette with two steaming cups of tea, one for himself and one for Steve.

Dennis narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Where is Bellamy?" he asked.

"Up at Miss Wilcott's. She reported having been burgled sometime during the night," Steve offered by way of explanation for his absence.

Dennis turned to Alf. "Quiet as a pub when dawn breaks," he mumbled sarcastically.

"Oh you know how it is; one or two customers usually left, they need assistance away from the place," Alf quipped.

OOOOOO

"Good grief," Lord Ashfordly muttered as his Estate Manager, Ben Norton, ended his update as of the events taking place the day before.

"I've only been away for a night and then this happens," the lordship added.

"I'm sure the police are doing everything they can to sort it out," Ben returned.

"Well, I certainly hope so," he said dryly. "How would it look? People get crazy ideas, they might think I had something to do with it."

Ben watched the lordship sigh and then sit down in his favorite armchair next to the fire place in the large library. He reached for the newspaper and found a picture of his Estate on the front page with a heavy black single line above. It read 'Mysterious death on the Ashfordly Estate'.

Charles Ashfordly blanched. "I think I need a drink," he said, his voice no more than a whisper.

"Are you sure, sir?" Ben began. "It's not even noon."

His employer gave him a dejected look and opened his mouth to say something when there was a faint knock on the door. The moment later Mrs. Kellet appeared in the doorway.

"I'm sorry to disturb you my lord but there is a reporter in the hall. He insists on having a word with you," she said.

The rather wealthy man nodded at Ben as he got out of the chair. "You get Sergeant Merton here," he ordered.

OOOOOO

"And you have nothing?" DI Shiner questioned as he sat down opposite the Ashfordly sergeant.

"You're correct, I am afraid, sir," Dennis answered sheepishly.

Shiner made a face, one that clearly showed disappointment. "I see," he muttered.

"I've just had a word with Doctor Craven, who performed the post mortem, and according to him our man was strangled on location. He put up a good fight, he has got various cuts and bruises suggesting that he defended himself," Dennis explained.

Shiner sat in silence contemplating the information he was given.

"According to forensics, as well as my officers, arriving on location yesterday, we have another set of footprints but not much more," Dennis added wearily.

"No witnesses?" the DI asked.

Merton shrugged. "None that we know of," he offered.

"And you say he isn't local?" Shiner questioned further.

"Our civilian, Alf Ventress, put out a description of the man in question earlier but so far no one seems to recognize the victim," the sergeant replied. "Before you ask, sir, we have sent the picture to our neighboring stations. I'm still waiting for news."

"Well…," the CID officer began as he leaned forward in the visitor's chair in the sergeant's office, hands clasped together in front of him, "…did he come by train, car or some other form of transportation?"

The former CID officer shook his head, unable to answer the question just yet. "That's our next step in this investigation," he let on.

"My apologies, Dennis, I still expect a higher standard from you I suppose," he said with a faint wry smile. "Despite what happened I know you were a trusted officer."

Dennis mood darkened somewhat but he was determined not to let it show as he straightened in his chair. "Thank you, sir," he said solemnly. "How's it going for DC Bradley?"

"A promising lad I must say," Shiner returned approvingly. "He had some help at the start, you trained him well."

Dennis nodded. "Now, where do you want to take it from here?" he asked curiously, steering the conversation back on track.

"I'll wait for your lads to find out where our John Doe came from and why he was in the area. I'll put some men on fining an identity and also I'll try and see if I can find out anything about the perpetrator," Shiner explained and turned slightly in his seat with a raised eyebrow as there was a knock on the door.

Dennis looked behind Shiner just as Ventress stepped through the door. "I'm sorry to interrupt Sarge but your presence is requested at the Ashfordly Estate," he said.

For a fleeting moment a half-amused smirk crossed Shiner's face before he turned serious. "I see you'll have your hands full," he stated.

Merton pursed his lips into a thin line, eyes hard, irritation clearly written all over his face as he got out of his chair and reached for his hat. "Thanks Ventress," he said in annoyance.

"If you don't mind, Dennis, I'll make myself comfortable behind your desk," Shiner said, causing him to stop mid-step out of his office.

"Not at all, sir," he answered, his voice carefully hiding every emotion swirling beneath the surface of his calm exterior.

OOOOOO

PC Steven Crane killed the engine of his police service motorbike and graciously swung his leg over the saddle and then placed his helmet at the top of the radio receiver. He took a moment to glance around the immediate area before walking up to the platform at the railway station. There where people milling around all over the place despite the rather strange hour. He did a double take at his wristwatch making sure it hadn't stopped at eleven hundred hours and then frowned.

"Constable," Mr. Stevenson, the railway master, said cheerfully as he came walking toward him. "Isn't it fantastic," he added proudly.

Steve gave him a sheepish smile which turned into a look of confusion. "What is?" he asked carefully.

"All these people, he clarified. "Haven't you heard about the rumours of shutting down several stations for the good profit?"

"Yes, now that you mention it," the young constable let on, "but I didn't think Aidensfield had anything to do with that."

"Every station is on the line here lad. However, this will show the department representative that this station is one to count on," Stevenson said.

"Well, I hate to spoil your good mood but I need to have a few words with you. It concerns our murder investigation," Steve informed.

The smile that had seemed glued to the railway masters face vanished and he gently tugged at the constable's arm, indicating for him to follow. "Not so loud constable, please," he admonished in a voice not louder than a whisper. "Come through to my office."

PC Crane frowned but said nothing as he dutifully trailed behind the railway master.

"Murder you say?" Stevenson said alarmed. "Has it got something to do with that first page of this morning's newspaper?"

Steve gave a wry smile. "Yes, the murder at the Ashfordly Estate," he concurred. "Sounds like something taken right out of a book."

"Do you have reason to believe he arrived by train?" Stevenson asked carefully.

"That's what I was hoping you could tell me," the young constable returned. He reached deep into his pocket and retrieved a picture of a lifeless man in his early forties. His face looked peaceful somehow despite that his last minutes in life had been horrendous and he looked younger than his actual age. His brown hair cut in the latest fashion, a bit longer than the station master would have liked. Stevenson harrumphed. "Definitely not a sight for sore eyes," he muttered.

"I do apologise for the picture. Unfortunately that is the only picture of him available at the moment," Steve explained.

"I can't really say I've seen him but then again yesterday was a very busy day," the railway master said.

"Forgive me for being privy, sir, but what was going on yesterday and how come there are so many people here today?" the young police constable asked curiously.

Stevenson broke into a grin. "A number of reasons," he let on cryptically eliciting a frown from the police man. "One of them being that the Pickering station is out of order. Some idiot broke a switch at daybreak two days ago and had it not been for the swift action of the flag master things could have turned nasty. He managed to get out a warning to the arriving freight train but with all its load it couldn't stop and veered off on a side track. The passenger train can come through there but the railway master there, Harrison didn't want all the people milling around on the platform while the work with the freight train was in order."

"Are they still at it?" Steve wondered aloud.

"It's a lot of cargo to shift," Stevenson returned. "Then there is this overly popular thing called a demonstration of good will up in York. I'm not sure what it's all about and somehow I don't think half of the activists knows either. Anyway a lot of them have been coming by train, they don't get off here but they ride the train through here."

"At the same time there's a strike at the bus company…" Stevenson trailed off, letting the sentence hang in the air as he chuckled.

"Well, please give me a ring if you do remember anything more," Steve said kindly. "It's very important that we find out how he arrived here and if you could help with that I would be grateful."

Stevenson reached out with his hand and took the newly taken picture of the dead man from the young police man again, to study it further. He appeared thoughtful for a while but then shook his head. "It might have been him," he began.

Steve felt his hope rising.

"If it was, he sure where in a hurry away from here. He knocked over a trunk and then stumbled over a dog, apologizing profusely," the railway master said, biting his lip, trying to recall something more. Then he shrugged. "I'm sorry that's all I can give you, but it's a big if. Could have been someone else, I'm really not sure."

Steve sighed inwardly in frustration but put on a polite smile as he got the picture back in his hand. "Like I said, do give us a ring if you remember anything more," he said.

OOOOOO

Sgt. Dennis Merton drove up the driveway to the Ashfordly Estate, parked the car just outside the main entrance and killed the engine with an exasperated sigh. The neat park and well-trimmed bushes and trees outside hinted that the owner of the place was a wealthy and proper man. The lordship was a well-respected man in the region. He used to hunt with the Chief Constable and other people in high places. Merton didn't care much for those people, he believed in advancement through proper work and weren't afraid of speaking what was on his mind. Unfortunately he knew that in his position he had to bow for his superiors and if he didn't please his lordship the Chief Constable would no doubt phone him and order him to take care of the problem. As of right know the problem was one nosy reporter standing in the lobby.

"Sgt. Merton," Mrs. Kellet said with a friendly smile as she stepped out on the porch.

Dennis returned the smile as he walked up to her. "Mrs. Kellet," he acknowledged. "I believe I have been summoned."

"Yes," the old maid said with relief. "His lordship is upset about the presence of a reporter and wants you to bring him into custody for trespassing. Also, he wants you to fill him in on the progress of the deceased."

Dennis swallowed. There hadn't been any progress to speak of, they were stuck on square one.

"Let's focus on one thing at the time," he said softly, yet in a commanding tone.

She nodded, understanding his reasoning. "Sounds logical; please come this way," Kellet said, leading him to the library where the lordship waited.

Charles Ashfordly looked up from the whiskey glass he was swirling in his hand as the door opened to reveal the Ashfordly police sergeant. "Finally, Sergeant Merton, what is this mess with the dead man found on my estate?" he demanded.

Dennis ignored the patronizing tone and took two steps inside the room. He made no effort to take off his hat or coat. "I wish I could have had the case cleared up by now and explain it to you but I'm afraid, my lordship, that it's a bit more complicated than that," he reasoned.

Ashfordly raised a questionable eyebrow at the statement. "Complicated? What in heaven's name is so complicated about it?" he asked.

"As of right now we are still investigating the matter. Who the man was, what he came from and what his intentions where by coming here," Merton explained, his voice neutral but the Scottish brogue thicker, indicating subtly that he was as frustrated by the whole thing as his lordship.

"See to it that you find something soon, Merton. I don't fancy reading about murder or mysterious deaths and other conspiracy theories on my land. It's bad publicity," he said dryly.

"I assure you, we are doing everything we can to identify the man and how he ended up here," Dennis replied. "Now, what was it about the reporter?"

"I want you to bring him in, he is trespassing on my land," the lordship said simply.

"I'm sorry I can't do that. But I can give him a warning. As long as he's not a threat to you or cause you or anyone else here any harm, my hands are tied," the sergeant explained patiently.

Ashfordly sighed, his eyes once again on the glass in his hand. "Very well, Merton, just get rid of him and clear up this mess," he said dejectedly.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Thanks for reviewing ;) I'm so glad you like it!_


	3. Open for Business

**Chapter Three – Open For Business**

Bernie Scripps whistled happily as he strode out from the garage to man the pumps. The rain had stopped and the afternoon sun was breaking through the cloudy sky. It smelled of wet grass and asphalt, a combination he connected to summer. It wouldn't be long now before the chilly morning breeze in the late spring would be replaced by the warm winds of an early summer. Feeling renewed energy flowing through his system he took a deep breath to fill his lungs with the fresh air and nearly choked as a strong, pungent smell of dung caught in his nostrils.

At the same time Vernon Scripps pulled up the red lorry just outside and pulled in the reverse. He went around the corner and killed the engine before jumping, ungraciously, out of the vehicle. A wide grin spread across his face as his brother strode up to him, coming from the front side of the building.

"Vernon, what…" Bernie began accusingly.

His half-brother held up his hand to stave off any further protests. "Calm down brother dear, this is going to be the greatest affair we've done in weeks," Vernon said casting a sideway glance at his helper, David Stockwell.

"Really?" Bernie countered sarcastically. "Is that why you've just parked a lorry loaded with dung on my backyard?"

"You're so sensitive," Vernon replied calmly. "I can't believe no one's thought of this before," he added slightly amazed.

"Actually, Mr. Greengrass…" David began but was cut short.

"Probably because whatever you're planning isn't as easy as you think," Bernie muttered as he placed his hands on his hips.

Vernon shook his head. "Negative as usual," he quipped. "And that's even before you've heard me out."

The burial entrepreneur and garage owner frowned, crossing his hands over his chest, waiting for Vernon to continue.

"Very well. This is cow dung, easy to get, every farmer wants to get rid of it," he explained and then pointed across the road to one of Gina's large pots. "That is a flower pot," he deduced.

Bernie rolled his eyes.

"Every year half the neighborhood spends a lot of money on fertilizers and they buy soil, they top-dress their lawns," Vernon patiently explained. "Think about it."

"I do and I still don't see what you're getting at," Bernie replied, not the least amused.

"Well, maybe that's why your business isn't gaining any ground," Vernon muttered. "Anyway, we mix this with soil and sell it as fertilizer."

"Last month it was stones of all kinds, sizes and shapes," Bernie complained. "To decorate the garden with and look how that went."

"Mr. Vernon and I did build the garden wall at Mr. Baker's like it said in the brochure," David said in their defense. "It wasn't our fault it destabilized."

"Exactly David," Vernon concurred.

"You think everything is so easy, that's not how it works, Vernon," Bernie said, trying to reason with his half-brother. "And now you have studied something else for a couple of minutes and believe you're going to get money from it."

"You have no faith in me, Bernie. You'll see," he said confidently.

"Take the lorry and go somewhere else, before the whole place stinks like a midden," Bernie said wearily.

OOOOOO

PC Phil Bellamy sighed and glanced at his wristwatch. In an hour his shift would be over and he was no closer to the truth about the poor man who lost his life than he was when his shift started.

Apparently Steve seemed to believe that he'd arrived by train although the railway master had been very doubtful. As it was it still seemed to be the most likely way he had arrived.

Phil walked into the last renting agency in Ashfordly, having already been around to Strensford, Pickering and even Whitby, in order to try and find out if any rental cars were missing or expected back by someone coming close to the description of their John Doe.

A young man dressed in a suite came walking toward him. "Can I help you Constable?" He asked politely.

"I was hoping you could," Phil replied and reached deep into his pocket to retrieve a photo of the unfamiliar man. "I was wondering if you'd seen this man."

The salesman took the photo in his hand and studied it closely for a moment. "No, can't say I've seen him," he said.

Phil made a face and accepted the photo back. "Tell me, do you have any connection with other rental agencies?" he asked, grasping at straws.

"We do have some contact with East London and Middleborough," he let on. "Otherwise we like to keep to ourselves."

"Could you ask them if they've seen this man?" Phil asked hopefully.

"A lot of people rent cars, he might easily slip in and out without anyone paying too much attention to detail," the salesman said.

"I'm willing to give it a try," the young constable said. "Please give me a ring in the morning."

OOOOOO

"Is that him?" Oscar asked as he glanced over Gina's shoulder to look at the Ashfordly Gazette.

"Yeah, I thought you had seen the police photograph earlier?" she said confused.

"Didn't really get a good look at it," he explained. "Besides, it wasn't really much to see."

Gina frowned. "I'm not so sure this says so much either," she returned, stepping aside to clean off the beer pumps.

Oscar sighed, looking almost frustrated, as he studied the man.

His colleague looked up at him. "Okay, Oscar, out with it," Gina said.

He glanced up at her. "I have seen this man before," he said cryptically.

"Really?" Gina asked, her eyebrows raising in question. "Has he been to the pub?"

"No, he bears a resemblance to a young boy that I saw a long time ago," he let on.

"Now, bearing a resemblance to someone doesn't mean it's the same man," Gina cautioned.

OOOOOO

Jenny looked up from where she was sitting alone in the comfy armchair, in the living room, as the door opened revealing her missing husband. She cast a quick glance at the watch and read nine p.m.

"There you are," she said. "I was starting to get worried."

"No need," Dennis replied sternly as he shrugged out of his coat.

"I was expecting you hours ago. I don't think the food is eatable," Jenny said dejectedly.

"I'm sorry, you know how it is," he reasoned.

Jenny huffed. "Yes, I do. You always place me second - always," she returned sourly.

"Jenny, please, don't be like that. You know I have to sort out things at work. It's been a murder here for heaven's sake," Dennis returned, slightly annoyed.

"And if it isn't a murder it's something else," Jenny muttered as she got out of the chair.

"I've never placed you second to anything," Dennis hollered after his wife as she walked into the kitchen. "It's not like I can chose to go to work just for the fun of it."

"I'm tired, Dennis, I don't feel like arguing about it right know," Jenny said in a subdued voice as he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

Dennis sighed, looking at the lit candles having burned halfway down and the cold food on the fancy plates of porcelain she had prepared. He felt like a jerk, seeing how she'd tried to make it a perfect evening and he'd just spoiled it.

He walked up to her and snaked his arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Jenny," he whispered.

"I know," she said as she let her head come to rest on his shoulder.

Dennis gently detached himself from his wife and took her by hand, starting to lead her out in the hallway, toward the door.

"Dennis, what are you doing?" She wondered aloud with a careful sly grin.

"I'm taking you out to a restaurant for some late snacks," he said.

OOOOOO

It was early morning when Ben Norton and his lordship walked quietly down the old dirt road at the outskirts of the Estate going through possible improvements, talking about the possibility of arranging a golf court along the green hills when his lordship suddenly stopped in his tracks and began to fumble with the binoculars.

Ben followed his gaze and saw something that resembled a large tent between the trees down south.

"I don't believe it!" Lord Ashfordly exclaimed angrily as he lowered the binoculars.

Ben Norton's upper lip curved slightly upward but otherwise he managed to keep a neutral face as he looked through his own pair of binoculars seeing a happy bunch of campers in the outskirts of the lordship's land.

"That they dare. Don't they know this is private property?" Ashfordly thundered, not the least amused. "I don't need any more headlines and I certainly don't want any more strange people on my land."

"Leave it to me, my lordship, I'll see to it that they pack up and leave," Ben assured him confidently.

OOOOOO

Bernie Scripps was in a happy mood in the quiet morning as he got himself a cup of tea and sat down behind his desk. He stretched out his legs at the end of the desk filled with various orders on car service and petrol credit lists. The radio was on, playing in the background, just loud enough to hear any news of importance. With a deep sigh he picked up the newspaper, took a clunk of his tea and nearly choked on it as he spotted an advertisement made by his brother.

"Scripps Fertilizing Shop," he read out loud. "Trouble with your plants, lawn or other large grass areas? Scripps Fertilizers does the trick for you. We have the right solution for everything. We guarantee…" Bernie trailed off wanting to read no further.

"Hello?" A woman's voice called causing him to temporarily forget about the advertisement.

"Yes," he said politely as he got up to meet the well-clad woman in her fifties who made her way into his garage.

"Are you Mr. Scripps?" she asked.

"Yes," he acknowledged, wiping his hand on his pant leg before shaking her outstretched hand. "What kind of service do you require?"

"I understand you sell fertilizers?" she said happily.

Bernie swallowed. "Well, actually, that would be my brother. I'm a car service man or an undertaker if you want," he returned.

"Okay," she replied, her happiness somewhat subdued. "My chauffeur is taking good care of the car and my husband, thank heavens, is away on a business trip."

"Oh," Bernie chuckled sheepishly. "I meant no offence. Anyway, if it isn't too much of a bother perhaps I could have my brother to phone you later or if you would like to come by later on?"

"I would appreciate if you could have him phoning me. I'm otherwise engaged in the afternoon. I work with a local charity event in Strensford," she explained.

Bernie smiled as he went to retrieve a pen and a paper. "Who should he call?"

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Thank you for the feedback – you're the best ;)_


	4. Identity

**Chapter Four - Identity**

"Hello?! Police officer!" Mrs. Collier hollered, stepping out of her garden and onto the dwindling road between Strensford and Aidensfield as she heard the sound of a motorcycle.

PC Steve Crane carefully eased off the throttle and slowed down until he came to a halt next to the petite old lady. "Mrs. Collier," he said with a polite smile as he killed the engine and took off his helmet. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I don't mean to be nosy PC Crane but I am a little worried. You see there was a young man on the train last night and if I'm not mistaken it was the same man that committed a horrible crime round here four years ago," she said in a troubled voice.

"Please forgive me…" Steve began but she waved his apology off.

"Of course, you wouldn't know now't about it. Silly me, it was before your time," she admonished herself. "You see he murdered his son…well it was said to be an accident but not many people believe it. Anyway, I thought you should now. Maybe he's got something to do with that horrible crime committed earlier on the Ashfordly Estate?"

Steve, not sure what to say, only nodded.

"He was a wild one when he was little you see. His name is Joshua Barber," she filled in.

"Thank you, Mrs. Collier. I'll…I'll check this up back at the station and have a word with my sergeant," the young police officer returned.

OOOOOO

"Morning brother!" Vernon shouted happily as he walked into the garage with David in tow.

Bernie knocked his head on the hood of the car he was currently working on at the sudden loud greeting and grimaced, doing a double take of his brother's appearance. "Vernon, what on earth…" he began as he took in the soiled clothing and the chaperon.

Vernon took of his cap and swiped his forehead, huffing slightly as he leaned against a car for a little rest as David single handedly carried a large sack of what could only be the so called fertilizer, and then put it down just inside the garage doors.

"Vernon?" Bernie called suspiciously.

"Don't you worry about a thing, we are just borrowing some space up front for our merchandize," he said happily.

"That's what I was afraid of," the undertaker muttered.

"What's that?" Vernon asked.

Ignoring the comment Bernie slowly made his way over to the desk and retrieved several notes. "Your customers," he said cryptically as he handed over a list of people that had asked for him.

"Good," Vernon broke into a wide grin as he elbowed David slightly as he hollered after his brother. "You're of little faith Bernie. I told you this would be something big."

"Big words and nothing behind it," the garage owner muttered dejectedly. "By the way, one of the women is some kind of council member back in Strensford so would you please not make a fool of yourself?"

OOOOOO

Ben Norton chuckled as he held the door for the local doctor, waiting for her to walk inside the pub in Aidensfield.

"They claimed they were purifying their souls. Mr. Rah even claimed he could feel the nature changing his immune system for the better. His Lordship lost the little faith he had when the man calling himself the seeker of the group started a campfire on his land and then began chanting," he filled in the amused doctor.

"I can imagine Lord Ashfordly's expression," Liz replied trying to contain a laugh.

Ben nodded. "That's not the end of it," he added. "Apparently the group has been around for quite some time in the vicinity, travelling short distances only. And while on their trips things have…shall we say disappeared."

"In the sense of?" Liz asked curiously.

"Well, such as garden figurines, garden equipment. Lord Harold Doley even claimed they took off with his tennis court," he said unable to contain his laugh anymore.

Oscar Blaketon looked up from where he was standing, behind the counter, at the Aidensfield Arms as Ben and Liz burst out laughing while heading for the bar.

"Ah," he began.

"What can I get you two?" Gina interrupted with a smile before he had a chance to say anything more.

Liz frowned and looked at Ben and then back again. "What's going on here?" She asked.

"Detective work, don't mind them," Gina replied. "They have too little to do," she added, nodding at Oscar and Alf, who sat at the end of the counter with a half-filled pint and a fag.

Ben eyed the two cunning former police officers.

"Orange juice for me, Gina," Liz said and gently nudged Ben to get his attention.

"Oh, a pint, please Gina," he said with a charming smile.

"By the lack of police officers hanging about, I'd say they're still busy trying to find something," Oscar deduced cunningly. "Merton's stuck."

"It's not overly easy, Oscar," Alf drawled to his sergeant's defense, causing his old friend and former sergeant to raise a skeptical eyebrow.

"Someone must know something," Blaketon reasoned, his voice sharpening.

"We have circulated a description of the man, put an advertisement in the paper, CID is trying to dig up something. Although so far everyone seem to have drawn a blank," Alf returned.

Oscar turned to Liz. "What does the hospital say?" He asked curiously.

Liz frowned. "What do you mean, Oscar?" She returned.

"There must be medical records, dental cards, fingerprints," he suggested.

"The fingerprints are for the police, as you very well know," she answered with a disapproving glare.

"The man must come from somewhere. He's not named John Doe for real," the bar owner muttered.

Gina pursed her lips and turned to Oscar with a look of contempt before letting out a frustrated sigh. "Like I said, Liz, don't pay too much attention to them. Enjoy your drinks," she said softly.

"Thanks," Ben offered to Gina and then nodded at a table close to the fireplace.

"I think Dennis better watch out or he'll have competition," Ben whispered close to Liz's ear as they made their way over.

Liz broke into a grin. "I don't think he will appreciate that," she let on.

OOOOOO

Precisely one minute before his shift started in the morning PC Steve Crane walked through the door to the police station. Despite the ongoing murder investigation things seemed quite slow around the precinct. Sergeant Merton seemed to be nowhere in sight, Bellamy's desk wasn't cleared since the day before indicating that he hadn't been anywhere near the place last night and he wasn't present now either.

Alf Ventress sauntered in at a slow pace and gently lowered himself in his chair behind the desk. "You're looking troubled," he said kindly to the young officer.

"Where is everybody?" Steve asked.

"Phil is trying to come to terms with his life. You know how he's been ever since they lost the child," Alf returned somberly. "It's a month ago this day so I wouldn't want to call him. I figure he's at the cemetery."

Steve sighed. It had been hard on all of them when Daniel had died. He couldn't even begin to understand what Phil and Gina was going through, he didn't have the experience and for that he was grateful. "What does Shiner have to say about that?" he asked carefully.

"He understands but he also specifically told Merton that if Phil's deemed a liability due to recent events he's to be taken off duty effective immediately," Alf returned.

Steve couldn't help but to smirk. "And how exactly do you know that?" He said.

"The door to the office happened to be open when I put the kettle on," he let on casually.

"I see. Well, anyway, what do you know about some villain returning home?" Steve questioned.

Ventress sighed. "Joshua Barber?" He asked, looking at Steve for confirmation.

He nodded.

"Was a bit of a hothead when he was little. Managed to create quite a stir in the village. Sergeant Craddock wasn't too fond of the guy," Alf chuckled. "Joshua spray-colored his car in neon pink as a rite to get into a gang."

"I can see why Sergeant Craddock objected to that," Crane offered with a smirk.

"Oh, he was quite harmless. His father was a heavy drinker and the kid didn't get a proper upbringing. No one had time for the poor boy. Then, when he was sixteen, he met a girl, Rose Chambers. She was a bit of a posh from uptown Ashfordly and a couple of months after they began seeing each other she got pregnant. It was a big scandal in the society's upper class. Rose Chambers was sent away to deliver her baby but Joshua found them. Despite everyone being against their relationship the pair decided to keep it together and raise their son on their own. They stayed uphill from here at a place called Ranger's Peak. When everything finally seemed to go their way an accident was reported up at the farm. The little kid died from his injuries," Alf finished sadly.

"So the father was blamed for it?" Steve asked, uncertain as of where Alf was going with the story.

"Rose was blamed, her parents, Joshua, his father, the list was long but their neighbours claimed they could prove Joshua was at fault and so he got sentenced. Rose, unable to bear the memories of her child and her imprisoned husband moved away from here. That was three years ago and no one's seen her since. The case was opened up again and new evidence showed it had been an accident and that no one was to blame so Joshua was released recently, after a long legal process. However, folks up here…they believe in rumours and not necessarily the truth. Mrs. Collier, the nice little lady you had a chat with, is one of those people," the former copper explained.

"So she's not on to something then?" Steve asked dejectedly.

"No, Steve, let the lad be. If he's here it's probably to pick up the pieces of his early life," Alf deduced. "And before you ask, Sarge is at the hospital. The coroner's report is finished."

OOOOOO

Dennis Merton sighed as he walked through the entrance doors to Ashfordly General Hospital. He nodded at the administration clerk and set a brisk pace toward the mortuary. At this early hour the hospital was milling with people on the first floor. Patients, attendants, nurses and doctors crowded the corridors along the emergency admission section, the vaccination center, the large waiting room and the information disks. Gloomily he came to realize it was Monday and that they'd been working with the murder case for almost four days without as much as a proper clue. Having been so wrapped up in the case he hardly had any recollection of the weekend that had passed. He had been hard at work most of the time.

He sighed again, this time deeply, as he neared the double doors to the mortuary. Despite the morning rush he had no trouble getting around the hospital, his dark blue uniform carrying enough weight, telling the patients and interns that he was a man of the law. The fact that his coat carried grade marks only highlighted that he was a man of importance in the police force. Despite the years he'd been back into uniform Merton still wasn't used to people recognizing him as a law enforcer. Being a DC in CID he used to work in plain clothes and had come to appreciate the freedom it gave him.

"Sergeant Merton," the coroner acknowledged as he walked out in the corridor to greet him. "My apologies it's taken this long but the chap proved to be a tricky man to identify."

The Scottish sergeant gave him a small nod, his mind having been miles away. "I do hope, Doctor Craven, that you've got something for me," he said.

"As a matter of fact I believe that you would be pleased," the balding man in his sixties returned with an upward curl to his lips. "In my business there usually are few surprises when it comes to the cause of death but occasionally the identification process proves tricky."

Merton nodded impatiently.

"I finally got a match down in Liverpool. As you've already discovered the man wasn't in any registers. That's why you didn't get a match on his fingerprints. His dental records had been destroyed and as you know CID wasn't able to match him against any missing person in the area," the doctor explained.

"Go on," Merton urged.

"Jeremy Watson," Doctor Craven let on cryptically. "The man you found on the Ashfordly Estate matches the description of Jeremy Watson, a junior doctor in Liverpool. I didn't mean to crack the case for you. It just so happens that my nephew is currently doing an intern year at the General Hospital over there and…well, we talked about it and he mentioned that a former colleague of his had disappeared but I thought it was just a coincidence…"

Merton waved his hand as if to indicate that heard enough. "Thank you Doctor Craven. We'll take it from here," he said.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Thank you for the support and for encouraging me to write more of this ;) You guys are wonderful!_


	5. A Piece of the Puzzle

**Chapter Five – A Piece of the Puzzle**

"I see," Alf said wearily into the phone as he rubbed his tired eyes. He was long overdue for his fag and tea by now.

DI Shiner stood behind the old copper, his critical eyes boring into the back of the older man as he awaited the information from the other end of the phone.

"Well?" the DI demanded sternly.

Alf shook his head in exasperation. "Nothing I'm afraid, sir," he drawled as he heaved himself out of the chair. "The information has been the same from every police station in the North Riding area. They haven't seen the man or anyone that's even close in resemblance. No one reported missing seem to fit the description of our John Doe."

Shiner harrumphed unhappily as the old copper excused himself and went outside, meeting the sergeant at the door.

"Dennis," Shiner called hopefully as the sergeant walked through to the duty room.

"I think we can leave square one," he said cryptically as he placed a folder on the desk in front of the DI. "His name is Jeremy Watson. He's been residing in Liverpool for the last ten years – give or take some, and lately worked as a junior doctor at the General Hospital there."

Shiner looked up at Merton, pausing his skimming through the folder. "Then we know the who but there's still the why, the how and his connections to this area," he said in a clear voice.

OOOOOO

Oscar Blaketon glanced out through the door at the back of the pub in search for his younger colleague. A concerned frown was displayed on his forehead as he spotted her on the last step of the stair leading to the shed in the garden.

Without a word he silently walked up to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Gina," he said kindly. "Are you all right?"

The barmaid nodded as a sob escaped her lips. She carefully ran her fingers under her eyes in an attempt to quick fix the ruined makeup. "I'm fine, Oscar," she said and managed a small smile. "I just thought I was stronger than this."

The former police sergeant slowly eased himself down on the step next to her. "Gina, you have to give it time," he said softly. "You and Bellamy lost a child. It's not supposed to be fine with that only a month afterwards."

"It's just that when I think about what we had, it comes crashing down on me," she said, her voice a hoarse cry as she turned to look at him. "The little fingers curling around mine. The way he smiled when I held him. My beautiful baby, Oscar, and I couldn't keep him."

"It will get better, Gina. I promise. I think you've come a long way," he said softly yet in an assuring way. "But maybe you shouldn't pretend Bellamy doesn't exist. It doesn't help any of you. He lost the child too and Daniel was his just as much as he was yours. He still loves you, you know."

"It hurts too much. Phil reminds me of what we had and it suffocates me. I can't let him touch me. It can never go back to what it once was between us," Gina replied. "I don't want to talk about it. I can talk about many things but…I'm not ready for that yet."

"You need to sort out those things before it can be better Gina, and you know that at heart, don't you?" Oscar asked carefully.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she whispered sadly.

"Good, now come inside and help me serve some beer to those lunatics in there," Oscar returned with twinkle in his eye.

Gina let herself be led away from the place she'd taken refuge at and let her spirit rise. Only it lasted only minutes because the moment she went behind the counter Phil Bellamy walked through the door.

Oscar gave her a sidelong glance, silently wondering if she would be all right and she found herself nodding.

Phil acknowledged Gina with a careful nod and she turned to fully face him, to lock eyes with him.

To the onlooker it didn't mean much but to Phil and Gina it meant a world of hurt, despair and pain just by looking at each other. It reminded both of them what they had lost, what would never be returned to them. Their common hopes for a family of their own had been shattered. For every day that went by it got a little easier and they'd reached the point where they could talk to each other again without it hurting too much.

Oscar, sensing they both could use a bit of distraction harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest sturdily as he fixed his eyes on Phil.

"So, Bellamy. Since you're here I take you've made some kind of progress back at the station?" He asked curiously, his voice as sharp and commanding as ever.

Phil sighed as he let his hand run through his unruly hair. "Yeah, I suppose you could call it that," he said wearily. "His name is Jeremy Watson…"

Oscar looked thoughtful for a moment before turning around to look for the few days old Gazette. Satisfied at finding it folded neatly beneath the counter, on a shelf, next to the spare beer drum, he retrieved it just as Steve walked up to his colleague and sat down next to him.

"Hello, Steve," Gina said with a faint smile.

"Gina, Oscar," the Aidensfield bobby returned politely.

"Jeremy Watson," Blaketon echoed smugly as he unfolded the newspaper and turned up the front page where a picture of the deceased man could be seen. "Thought he looked familiar."

"With all due respect, Oscar," Steve began. "Our John Doe namely Jeremy Watson is an inmate, a junior doctor, training down in Liverpool."

Blaketon looked up from the Gazette and focused on Crane. "This man was born and - well maybe not entirely but partly - raised here," he said sternly.

"Are you quite sure?" Steve asked carefully.

"I am absolutely sure. I thought I recognized him from somewhere when I first saw the picture but I couldn't place him," the former police sergeant mused.

"Why did he leave?" the Aidensfield bobby asked curiously.

"Tragedy," Oscar said in low tunes. "Jeremy was the name of the oldest son in a large goat farming family. Back then times where tough – even tougher than they are now around here. You can't know about them since you're not from here, Crane."

Steve nodded thoughtfully as Oscar turned to Phil.

"The family was poor and, especially one year, the pastures was bad and the sheep hadn't enough food. They didn't produce enough milk for the Watsons to sell and they lost several contracts with dealers and shops around North Yorkshire. The father, Joshua, refused to give up. He worked around the clock trying to bring order out of chaos and care for the animals. When he wasn't in the sheep stable he was at the gambling machines in town. The boys' mother tried to care for them the best way she could but seeing to eight children and care for the house, cook dinner, clean, take care of the shillings and see to it that her husband didn't get into trouble from gambling wore her out," Oscar explained.

"Amy Watson-Clover," Phil mused. "I remember, when I was fresh from the academy, a suspected murder case."

Blaketon nodded gravely. "Yes, she was found by one of the smaller children lying dead in the stable. At first we thought Joshua had something to do with it. We brought him to custody, it became a long process in which the children got sided. Social service took care of them temporarily and divided them," he said.

"Joshua Watson was cleared of all suspicions but not before months of prosecution and evidence gathering," Phil recalled vaguely. "The autopsy showed a weakened heart – did it not?"

"She died of natural causes and the husband was let out. However, the bank took the farm and the social service deemed him unfit to care for his children," Blaketon filled in.

Steve shook his head.

"Jeremy took it the hardest since he was oldest and therefore old enough to understand what was going on around him. He insisted on staying with his uncle, Jack Lane, until he was finished with school," Blaketon explained further.

"Jack Lane?" Steve questioned in disbelief. "That old and gruff, drunk man that seems to be friend with nobody? He doesn't strike me as the type who should take care of children."

"Jack's life hasn't been a walk in the park, Steve," Oscar cautioned. "I'd tell you about it sometime. Anyway the boy graduated with top grades and got a scholarship. He left the area fifteen years ago and no one's seen him since – until now."

Steve shook his head at the story. "I wonder what brought him back here after all these years," he said.

They all seemed lost in their own thoughts as Vernon Scripps barged through the door with David in tow. The red haired, overweighed man looked bushed as he slowly made his way up to the counter with one hand placed at his lower back.

"My goodness," Vernon exclaimed. "This fertilizing business is killing me."

David looked attentively at him with a concerned look on his face.

"What's the matter, Vernon?" Gina asked with a frown.

Oscar Blaketon leaned forward over the counter, looking smug. "He's been working, like the rest of us," he said.

Scripps snorted as he gingerly sat down on a chair next to the two police officers. "There is no need to be smart, Oscar," he returned with an indignant glare at the former sergeant.

David, looking dumbfounded, took off his hat and remained standing at the counter, his eyes finally landing on the Gazette. "Is that John Doe?" He asked curiously.

Gina couldn't help but soften a bit at the look on the harmless and sensitive yet slow man. "Yes, David, that's John Doe," she let on.

Vernon rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you; his name is not John Doe?" He said, his words clipped as he was unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

David looked around turning in turn to Oscar, Gina, Phil and Steve. "When I was picking up old Mrs. Williams at the railway station earlier this week there was this man, almost pushing the sweet lady over," he began hesitantly.

Oscar folded his arms across his chest.

"I…I didn't get a good look at him but he looked a lot like John Doe," he said. "He kept looking over his shoulder, like he was hunted by someone."

Phil and Steve looked seriously at each other, both straightening in their chairs at David's information.

"So, he was really coming by the train," Steve said darkly.

Phil nodded, looking down at his empty orange juice. "The question is – whom was he chased by?"

"And why?" Steve returned.

"Who would hunt a doctor down and kill him in cold blood?" Gina asked suddenly, shuddering just by asking such a question.

"What was he practicing?" Steve mused. "Did he kill someone at the hospital – a patient?"

Phil nodded. "You think it's a relative bent on revenge?" he asked. "I remember Kate Rowan being a victim to such a thing several years ago."

Oscar looked around the bar casually and, seeing Berta Livingston look their way from a nearby table, he carefully leaned toward Phil and Steve. "I don't think we shall continue this discussion here, you better head back to the station," he said in low voice. "See that gossiping woman over there?"

Carefully the two officers cast a glance to their right.

"If she's picked up on anything, the word would be out within minutes," Oscar said.

"Lovely," Steve muttered as he rose and patted Phil on the back. "Are you coming?"

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Another chapter for you – I love your feedback ;)_


	6. Gossip and Uncertainty

**Chapter Six – Gossip and Uncertainty**

It was early, yet the sun was making it feel like noon as the middle aged wife to the now deceased politician walked down the main street of the Aidensfield village. Joyce Jowett had a tight schedule for the day and figured she might as well do the shopping first. Then with a sigh she stopped short as she couldn't remember if she'd brought the wallet with her.

She looked up from rummaging through her purse outside the village grocery store as she caught the black Ford Anglia police car in her periphery vision.

"This can't go on," she heard a familiar voice mutter from behind.

Joyce turned around slightly as the police car drove through the village to face one of her neighbors.

"Angelica," she said with a forced smile.

"What does the council say about it?" She pressed.

Mrs. Jowett raised an impeccable eyebrow. "About what? The campers up at Ashfordly Hall, the imminent threat about the closing of our railway station or the murder?" She asked. "You should now anyhow considering your husband's involvement in the council."

Angelica rolled her eyes ignoring her last statement. "About the murder of course, and the repercussions after that," she returned in annoyance. "The man who did it could still be out here somewhere. I mean look at what the police are doing."

"And what are they doing?" Joyce asked.

"That's exactly my point," Angelica Nolan was fuming now. "Nothing, they're doing nothing about it. I've been talking to several people in the village and they're all scared."

"I don't usually side with police, Angelica," Joyce began carefully. "But in this case I'm sure they're doing what they can."

The woman huffed. "They've been running around the area for several days and yet there's no news," she said.

"Bertha overheard something promising at the pub last night," Joyce let on. "Something about Liverpool and a doctor."

"Liverpool? Didn't Sergeant Merton work there before he came here?" Angelica asked curiously. "He probably knows more than he let on."

OOOOOO

Jack Lane looked up from the newspaper he was studying as he heard a car upfront. His hands shook as he reached for the bottle of whiskey standing next to him. He inhaled a shaky breath before letting the content of the bottle soothe his raw throat. His eyes once again locked on the picture of the young man being declared as a deceased by the journalist. Memories of a happy little boy played out before him and then the boy morphed into a somber young man who'd lost everything he held dear. He'd watched the young man change before him, seen him struggling with his upbringing, missing his brothers and sisters. Jack had seen him coming home from school with a black eye and he'd seen him clean it up. The man had a fighting spirit, a belief in right and wrong that sometimes amazed him.

Jack had envied him at times, envied how he could shake off everything bad that had happened and fought for a scholarship. He'd been proud of his nephew when he'd gotten a place at the large hospital back in Liverpool but it was with sadness he'd let him leave. Now as he looked at the picture of his nephew he felt a rage spreading through his body. Someone had taken the life of one of the people that meant the most to him. Jeremy kept him together as he lived under his roof and had helped him with the farm while no one else in the village seemed to care if he survived or not.

A sharp knock on the door had him throw a hasty glance in the direction of the hallway but he made no move as to get up and greet his guests.

"Mr. Lane, please open up we know you're there," a stern voice called.

Jack sighed and shook his head, undeterred by the man on the opposite side of the door. He'd seen the car arrive so he knew it was the police standing outside his door. The hard ass Scottish sergeant and his minions were the last persons he'd wanted to speak to at the moment.

"It's the police, Mr. Lane. I'd advise you to…"

Jack had enough and dragged himself out of the chair, he made his way to the worn entrance door and roughly grabbed the door handle and swung the door open.

"Took you long enough, Merton," he said without pardon.

The Sergeant looked as unimpressed by the words thrown at him as Jack was by the fact that the man of the law stood outside his door.

"I believe, Mr. Lane, that you already know that your nephew was found dead up at the Ashfordly Estate," he said.

"That is correct," he let on, as he leaned on the doorframe, content on keeping the police officer outside.

"If you knew it was him why didn't you come to us when you knew we were looking for clues about him?" Merton asked.

"Would it had made any difference?" Jack drawled. "He was already dead and, as far as I know, the police don't have the power to bring him back from there."

"You could have saved us a lot of trouble," Merton returned, his voice slightly raised.

"Well, excuse me, your highness," he muttered, meeting anger with anger. "I've never got any help from you or the village council, or my neighbors for that matter."

"Mr. Lane," Crane began carefully, trying to diffuse a situation that might get out of hand.

However, the drunken farmer only had eyes for his superior officer.

"Look what happened to my brother and his family. He even got accused of murdering his wife yet he had nothing to do with it! So forgive me for having little faith in the police. Who knows what kind of accusations you would have thrown at me if I had come down to the station and told you he was my nephew. You might have suggested I had killed him myself!" Jack exploded, his voice bitter and rising with every word he spoke until the last few was shouted at the Scottish man standing opposite him.

"That is enough!" Merton yelled back. "I'd advise you to cooperate or I'd haul you back to the station and continue this discussion there. The choice is yours, Mr. Lane."

Jack snorted. "It takes effort to call me mister doesn't it, Merton?" He gloated.

"What was he doing in the area?" The Scottish sergeant asked, ignoring the remark thrown at him, his voice as cold as ice.

"How should I know?" Jack questioned. "I haven't seen him in ages."

"Look, Mr. Lane," Steve began in a neutral voice. "You're the only one he's got up here. You must have some clue as of why he got on the train from Liverpool and got off at the Aidensfield station."

"I tell you what," he said angrily as he walked up to stand very close to the young police officer, invading his private space. "I wish I knew."

OOOOOO

Lord Ashfordly smiled as he inhaled the brisk air in the early afternoon, the tranquility of the large garden calming his grated nerves. He'd just put away the last number of the Gazette in frustration as there was a follow up article about the murder. To him it meant another booth of bad publicity.

He walked over the courtyard and headed off to walk his land in order to calm down and maybe shot a pheasant or two on his round. At least he should be grateful that the campers had moved away so that he needn't concern himself with having his unique garden figurines and other things stolen.

As his lordship wandered further away from the Hall, the riffle over his arm, secured, he suddenly stopped short as a faint smoke pillar rose to the sky behind the trees marking the end of his land. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and the thought of pheasants vanished from his mind.

Lord Ashfordly mumbled a few curses under his breath as he neared the group of white dressed people sitting around the campfire. He could hear a low chanting repeated over and over again among the men as walked up to stand behind them.

Mr. Rah opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps approaching and looked up to see the lordship stand next to him. He put on a smile. "Welcome, my lordship," he greeted politely.

"I believe my right hand, Mr. Norton, told you to leave the premises?" He said ignoring the man.

"That is correct," Mr. Rah let on. "However, your land was calling out to us."

Ashfordly began a silent countdown in his head, furious at the trespassing but when he spoke his voice was calm and aristocratic. "Then I believe you need to have your ears examined," he said dryly as he unsecured his rifle. "This is private property and you're not invited. Now, please leave immediately and do not come back."

OOOOOO

Phil Bellamy sighed in frustration as he inserted the key in the lock to his apartment. He didn't feel like going for lunch back at the pub in Aidensfield with Steve. It still hurt too much to look at the love of his life seeing the look of contempt on her face and the blame in her eyes as she looked at him. She wanted nothing to do with him, she'd been clear about that. Still she'd not walked away when he'd approached her and she'd talked to him when she stood behind the bar with Oscar by her side.

Life was finally moving on but it was a slow process and he hated it. Not too long ago he'd had the woman of his dreams and he'd had a baby – now he had nothing, just an empty apartment. The only thing that was constant in his life for the moment was his job and for that he was grateful. The murder case had helped him shift focus from himself and his misery to the young doctor's misery. It was funny how the death of a young person could somehow open your eyes.

He took a deep breath as he slid the refrigerator door open and wasn't surprised when he found nothing that could even begin to work as something eatable. He'd neglected to go to the grocery shop again, not finding it worth its while. He just had to go out and have something to eat so it might as well be that new restaurant at corner next to the police station in Ashfordly. Of course he could visit his grandma but he couldn't find the energy to do that at the moment.

As the young officer made it to the door, he turned around and glanced through the haphazardness of the room and realized that he should clean the place as well. His eyes involuntarily stopped at a beautiful picture of him smiling as he stood beside a proud mother with her newborn. With a twinge of sadness he wished for that moment to never have ended.

Phil ran a hand through his hair and put on his helmet, locked the door after him and headed out. Maybe it was time anyway to have that lunch over at the Aidensfield Arms?

OOOOOO

"Just one more, David," Vernon encouraged in satisfaction as he stood by and let David shift the heavy sacks filled with various ratio of dung and soil.

The younger, rather heavyset man, huffed, his face taking on a shade of red thanks to the heavy duty of loading the truck.

Bernie Scripps walked out on the front side of his garage looking annoyed and not the least amused by the whole thing. His left hand was placed over his nose to effectively prevent the odor that came with the sacks from reaching his nostrils.

"Why can't you have those at home?" The undertaker and garage owner complained. "You're scaring my customers. Absolutely no one wants to get his sports car washed and waxed next to that."

"Relax brother dear," Vernon said with confidence. "The way our business is going at the moment all this would be gone by the end of the week."

Bernie frowned as he stared at the rather large amount of sacks sitting just outside his garage doors.

"The news about my services are spreading around the villages and then some," Vernon began.

His brother huffed as he crossed his arms across his chest, his eyes never leaving the fertilizer. "It usually does, Vernon, although it's seldom good news," he pointed out.

Ignoring the remark Vernon's face cracked up in a half grin. "I've even got a customer from the council. We'll be heading over to Emile and Angelica Nolan in the afternoon," he said cockily.

"Be careful, Vernon, just be careful," Bernie said gloomily.

OOOOOO

To be continued


	7. Longing for a Quiet Day

**Chapter Seven – Longing for a Quiet Day**

Jenny Merton was furious. Dennis had once again abandoned her for the sake of his job. Apparently he had felt it absolutely necessary to spend a perfectly lovely evening back at Ashfordly Police Station. They had been through this so many times and all she could do was to feel defeated by his work. She had some understanding it wasn't like that but recently it had been every night, almost every day. She waited up for him or made some plans, reservations on a restaurant, deciding to meet with Liz and Ben. Two nights they'd been out but it didn't compensate for the rest of them.

Jenny sighed in frustration as she opened the front door to their house. She was the first one home, she was the one to turn on the lights, to put on a comfy fire, to prepare a meal. Liz and Ben had tried talking her into going with them for a drink back at the Aidensfield Arms but she'd declined feeling like she was just in the way of their aspiring love, besides she would miss Dennis, wondering what he was doing and so on.

She tiredly shrugged out of her light green coat, hung it on a hook behind the door and headed further into the house, more precise, to the living room. Jenny cast a glance at her reflection in the mirror wondering briefly if she'd lost her looks or maybe it was the touch? She gently ran her fingers through her hair, adjusting the few strands that had loosened from her soft bun and unbuttoned the two top buttons on her shirt. After having decided she looked quite good she stepped lightly to the other side of the room and opened the bar. She reached for a delicate vine and uncorked the beautiful flask, a late wedding present from her brother. Tears stung her eyes as she poured the expensive merlot into a glass. Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly as she headed for Dennis's favorite armchair and sat down. It was one of the few things they'd managed to choose together, when he had been available.

She wiped a tear from her cheek and as she did so her eyes where involuntarily drawn to a framed picture standing across the room on a bulging shelf. Her lips curled upwards before a smile creased her lips at the memory of having the picture taken. It had been one of the happiest days in her life; their wedding day. He stood tall next to her, dressed in a tux decorated with one of the largest and most beautiful white roses she'd ever seen. He had been smiling at her, all other obligations forgotten, his eyes had been solely on her. The happiness and love in his eyes reflected in her own. They had been locked in a moment that day, a moment she'd do everything to get back to.

OOOOOO

Dennis Merton tiredly raked a hand through his greying hair and closed his eyes as he leaned backwards in his chair. He had nothing, no clues, and no witnesses, nothing at all that could be called reliable and work in court. He snorted. 'Court,' he thought sarcastically. He should be happy if he didn't have to drop the case altogether. Everything they'd got so far was circumstantial at best. The only thing positive was that DI Shiner had left for the hotel he was booked into so that he had had time to get on with the rest of his paperwork. Unfortunately the rest of the petty thieves and burglars didn't care if the police was busy or not.

Dennis glanced at his watch and stifled a yawn realizing he had been at it for hours after the end of his real duty shift. Jenny would no doubt have a word or two with him when he stepped through the door. However, he wouldn't trade married life for anything in the world, she meant so much to him. He just hoped that one day, she could understand what it actually meant to be the person in charge of a police station.

He felt the beginning of a headache once again as he thought back on the events occurring during the day. The goat farmer, Jack Lane had been furious by their visit and uncooperative till the last. He claimed he didn't know why his nephew returned to his roots and coming to think about it Dennis didn't know whether or not that was the truth. He had to take Lane's word for it though, given the situation. Still it didn't help matters at hand. Shiner was still looming the hallways of the station, appearing when it was most inconvenient. He'd thought of calling Jenny at work today just to speak to her but he found himself unable to do it as every time he tried there was something that demanded his attention.

Dennis sighed as he reached up to rub his temples, elbows on his desk. Aidensfield was one large gossiping village at the moment and as he'd briefly called in to the pub he'd found it hard to leave without being questioned by several people as to the progress of the murder enquiry. Some people believed Watson was doing something illegal and that he was running from someone. That was partly true because the young doctor had definitely been running from someone, the question was who and why? He groaned as there was too many questions that needed an answer.

Wearily he rose from his chair and started to walk toward the rack where he kept his coat and hat. He wondered briefly if he could just slip into the house and go to bed without having to be cross-examined by Jenny and being told how much she hated him being away every night. He felt bad enough about it as it was.

OOOOOO

"Well, hello handsome, we meet again," Ben Norton said with a cunning smile as he walked up to Liz Merrick who was sitting next to the counter at the Aidensfield Arms.

The young doctor turned slightly around, a dazzling smile grazing her lips. "It is a strange coincidence isn't it?" She teased softly.

"You two lovebirds," Gina complained lightly with a cheeky grin. "Is there anything I can get you Ben?"

"I'll have a pint, Gina and…" he said as he cast a hasty glance at Liz's almost empty glass. "…a refill of whatever Liz was sipping."

Gina nodded with a smirk as she looked from Ben to Liz and then back again. "There's room in the snug, if you want someplace more private," she offered.

"If we want to hear what we are saying to each other?" Ben asked with a twinkle in his eye.

The pub was crowded and the sound of chattering voices seemed to be constantly rising.

"Is there a special occasion that I've missed?" Ben asked curiously.

Gina shook her head tiredly. "Oscar's gathering parts of the council today to talk about the railway – they're upstairs. Vernon's been in here trying to sell in his, I don't know what he called it – fertilizer? The ornithologists are over there by the fire, having a drink before their annual meeting. So, no nothing exciting is going on," she finished explaining as she handed over the drinks.

"So, what's the latest?" Ben asked carefully, curiously, as they headed around the counter and into the back of the smaller room.

Liz had a questionable look on her face as she turned to look at him. "Interested, Mr. Norton?" She asked cunningly.

"You know with all the rumours going on…" he said casually as he slid his arm around her small back.

"And you're not exactly helping to stave off the rumours," Liz returned with a smirk.

"Maybe I want to create rumours. It's more fun that way," he replied. "Seriously, what's been happening? My lordship is starting to get frustrated and he's beginning to take that out on me."

"Oh, you poor thing," Liz teased sarcastically. "Here I thought it was me you where after but it was just information."

"You have a way of twisting my words, my dear Doctor Merrick," he returned politely before breaking into a grin. "Fine, let me show you that isn't so."

"Ben," Liz asked in confusion as she let herself being led by the arm away from the table they'd been approaching and toward the outer door. "Where are we going?"

"We are going to take a stroll in the park under the moonlit and starry sky. All by ourselves without any nosy onlookers," he said.

Liz chuckled. "Why? Is it safe going out alone with you?" She asked in a light tone.

"Are you accusing me of murder, madam?" Ben returned cheekily as he opened the car door for her.

"Don't be silly," she chided.

OOOOOO

David Stockwell climbed into the red truck's passenger seat and swiped away the dirt and perspiration on his forehead with his worn cap.

Vernon Scripps ungracefully got behind the wheel and let out a relieved sigh. "That, David, was one hard day," he complained as he turned to look at his right hand man.

David met his eyes dumbfounded.

"Well look at you," Vernon said in disgust, taking in the dirty man and shook his head.

"What?" David exclaimed as he let his eyes roam over the dirty clothes and greasy shoes before refocusing on the man next to him. "You look just the same, Mr. Scripps."

Vernon groaned inwardly as he cast a glance in the rear mirror. "I was afraid of that," he muttered. "However, our customer was happy so let's be okay with it for now."

"Are you sure it was such a good idea, Mr. Scripps, to use so much of the fertilizer on Mrs. Nolan's old roses?" David asked carefully. "And on that plateau next to the fish pond?"

Vernon snorted. "I know what I'm doing, David, trust me on that," he returned.

OOOOOO

"Sarge," a voice called out from behind him as he tiredly put his briefcase in the backseat of his Rover.

Dennis refrained from rolling his eyes as he turned around to see Steve Crane waking up to him from the parking area. However as tetchy as he felt he didn't let it show. Instead he calmly nodded out toward the gate.

"How are things?" the sergeant asked.

"I don't know, sir," Steve let on wearily. "Aidensfield is pretty much brewing under the assumption that Jeremy Watson was hiding something. I've heard the most ridiculous rumours for years. The worst thing is that I can't tell them anything because there isn't anything to tell yet."

Dennis nodded sadly.

"I wish I could correct some of the rumours. Sarge, I wish we knew more," he said in frustration. "More than that Watson likely arrived by train and that he was chased by someone."

OOOOOO

"I really don't know why I let myself being talked into this," Liz Merrick complained lightly with a cautious grin on her face as she got out of Ben Norton's Land Rover.

"Because you like me," he returned mischievously as he too got out of the car.

She waited for him to pick up the rather large basket with wine and grapes they'd bought at the grocery shop. She couldn't help but to smile as he draped the blanket over his shoulder, looking like a matador, as he closed the back door of the car and walked up to her.

Together they began walking down a narrow road, no more than two muddy lines, where cars went on daily basis a long time ago.

"At least this way we won't be disturbed by gossiping old ladies, old police sergeants who want to question us, lordships asking about campers or seeing a sad Phil Bellamy fumbling with a pint, looking at Gina from distance," he said with a sad smile.

The smile on Liz's face vanished and she became serious. "Ben, don't you ever talk about that like it's a joke," she admonished. "I don't think you should have liked to trade places with them. Gina and Phil have had a trying time."

Ben raised his hand in surrender. "I didn't mean it like that," he said. "And you know it."

"I'm sorry," she returned as they neared the more cupid terrain. "So, this is the mines?"

Ben nodded. "Yes, a long time ago they used to…" he trailed off as he thought he'd heard a moan.

Liz chuckled at the confused look on his face. She elbowed him in the side lightly. "What? Seen a ghost or something?" she asked playfully.

"No, I thought I heard something. It's coming from inside the tunnel," he explained seriously.

"Don't pull my leg, Ben. What have you got in there? A candle lit table and another surprise?" She asked with a cunning smile.

He held up a finger as if to silence her and when she concentrated, she too could hear the low moan. The smile on her face vanished in an instant to be replaced by a look of confusion and fear.

They glanced at each other and then carefully walked toward the tunnel entrance.

Ben turned on the flashlight he'd kept in the basket as he felt a small hand close around his wrist for comfort. He turned slightly to look into the large eyes of Doctor Merrick as they headed further into the dark tunnel where no one seemed to have been for at least fifty years.

The tension in the air heightened with every step they took. The tunnel was damp and poorly lit, illuminated only by the pointed light from Ben's flashlight, the bulbs hanging loosely in the ceiling having been decommissioned ages ago. As they walked inside they could see shovels and other equipment left like someone would be expected to work the next day. Liz got a feeling there was more to this mine than Ben had told her and her imagination set into higher gears as to what they would find.

Then Ben suddenly stopped and Liz almost had to back pedal in order to avoid slamming into him. She followed the light beam as it shone on a man lying in the dirt, propped up somewhat against the tunnel wall. His eyes where closed but his mouth was open, a thin line of blood trickling down his chin and down his shirt.

The fear forgotten Liz Merrick transformed into Doctor Merrick as she walked resolutely toward the man. Ben reached out to grab her arm, afraid that the man might be dangerous considering what had been going on recently on the Estate but the doctor slipped out of his grip as fast as he could touch her.

"Liz," Ben whispered, the warning tone in his steady voice not going unnoticed by the doctor.

"I don't think he'll do anyone any harm, at least not anytime soon," she told him as she knelt beside the fallen man.

Curious, Ben walked up to them and knelt beside the man too but on the other side. As he did so he understood what she had meant. He was more dead than alive.

"We better call an ambulance, Ben, and quickly or his life will be lost and I don't think your lordship would appreciate that," she ordered with urgency in her voice.

He nodded seriously and handed her the flashlight as he moved to stand. "I can find my way out, you need it more," he explained.

"Please, you better call Dennis here too," Liz said over her shoulder as she watched Norton become nothing more than a shadow as he headed for the entrance. A chill went down her spine as she was left alone in the unknown mine with the unconscious and unknown man and she willed for Ben to hurry back.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Thank you for the reviews! I'm so glad you like the story ;)_


	8. More Questions Added

**Chapter Eight – More Questions Added**

Phil Bellamy was feeling the effects of the inebriation coming over him and he welcomed it. It had been quite some time since he'd been this drunk but he felt relaxed and better. The tension from working the murder case and the tiptoeing around Gina was lost for a while. He chuckled slightly to himself as he realized that his former sergeant was glaring at him from a distance, shaking his head at the inappropriate behavior showed by him as a police officer.

He'd come to the pub at lunch and tried to talk to Gina but she'd politely brushed him off. However, he'd not given in. Instead he'd ordered a meal and had a chat with some locals at a table. Then he'd resumed his duties for another couple of hours until his shift had ended. The constant press from CID, the division HQ in Whitby, the media and even the villagers when it concerned the murder enquiry was only adding to his burden of losing his beloved child and his fiancé all at the same time but in a different form. Gina wasn't dead she was just not interested in him anymore in any way. He simply couldn't stand it any longer. That's how he'd ended up right back at the Aidensfield Arms seeking out Gina again – because, when it came down to it, she was the only one that could understand.

The barmaid had busied herself and only talked to him occasionally and so he had ordered pint after pint, his uniform jacket tucked away as not to offend Oscar too much. He wasn't on duty after all, only he hadn't felt like changing clothes before heading to the pub the second time.

He hastily opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them in the first place, as he heard the familiar siren of the panda car outside. He struggled to get out of the chair he was residing in and clumsily grabbed his jacket on his way outside.

That warranted the barmaid's attention and she came over, placing her hand gently on his shoulder as he was about to stumble out. He froze momentarily just inside the entrance door at her touch, she hadn't done that since the tragedy had taken their child.

"Phil," Gina said softly, sadness displayed in her eyes.

"I have to go, Gina, something has happened," he reasoned softly, drowning in her eyes as the sadness there mirrored the one displayed in his own.

"I don't think Sergeant Merton would approve," she said softly. "Besides, I think it's time you and I had a talk."

He stared at her, not really comprehending what she meant but found himself nodding as he let her steer him clear of the door and toward the snug.

I've been selfish, Phil," she said as they sat down opposite each other and he could see that she was struggling for the right words. "I can manage small talk and everything else but not that topic. I haven't had the guts to talk about it – about everything that happened. And if I chose not to talk about it, then maybe I could pretend it didn't happen."

Something in him snapped, he couldn't stop it as he leaned forward over the table, his eyes dark. "It's not only about you," he said in a low voice yet it was so filled with anger and despair that it hurt Gina to listen.

"I was there too, Gina," Phil continued. "It was our baby. You giving me the cold shoulder like it was my fault it happened hasn't exactly helped things."

The barmaid nodded as tears slowly threatened to spring from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Phil," she whispered.

OOOOOO

Liz's head shot up and she strained her ears to hear the faint sound of approaching sirens. "Ben?!" she said calmly despite the helplessness she was feeling.

"I'm here, Liz," he said as he walked toward her. "I'm sorry it took so long. Are you ok?"

She nodded faintly, her eyes focused on the man on the ground. "I'm not the one who's been injured, Ben," she said.

"How's he doing?" Norton asked carefully as he moved to stand behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Liz shook her head and when she spoke her voice was serious. "Not good, his pulse is rapid, his breathing shallow, his eyes are glazed over and he's been mumbling incoherently for a while. I fear he's got serious internal injuries."

Ben nodded. "The ambulance is here now," he said. "I better show them in."

Within ten minutes they had the man loaded on the stretcher and taken into the back of the ambulance ready to take off. "I can't wait for Dennis, I'm going with them to the hospital," Liz said.

Ben nodded. "I'll explain the situation to the police and, somehow, I'm going to explain it to Lord Ashfordly," he said as he watched the doors closing behind the doctor. "His lordship is going to hit the roof."

OOOOOO

"Mr. Scripps!" David shouted joyfully as he popped his head down in the basement causing the older brother of the Scripps family to jump where he stood bent over Jeremy Watson.

David had the decency to look afoul and took off his hat in the presence of the deceased. "I'm sorry, Mr. Scripps. I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized.

"Would you mind knocking next time," Bernie muttered as he let out a relieved breath.

David looked down at the young man lying in the coffin in a crisp white shirt and a marine blue suit. He looked good, his hair had been washed, the blue tinge and deadly pale face had been smoothened by makeup and he looked peaceful, not like on the picture taken earlier.

"Why did he die?" David asked sadly.

"I don't know, David. I wish he could tell us," Bernie said solemnly. "There are so many questions unanswered to this tragedy. It's Jack Lane's nephew. Like that family hasn't been through enough as it is already."

David was quiet but the look on his face told Bernie he had no idea what had occurred in the past.

"It's a long story David, and I've only heard half of it. But, according to Oscar…"

He trailed off as Vernon stomped down the stairs and walked into the candle lit room. "Here you are. I was wondering where you got to," he said, looking at his half-brother. "Doing business I see. Well, after today I would give a lot to have customers like him that doesn't complain."

Bernie rolled his eyes and sighed. "Why don't you go home, Vernon and take a shower. And please show some respect while you're down here," he admonished.

"I wasn't offending him," Vernon protested. "I was just saying I've had a trying day that's all. Believe it or not brother dear but I don't like seeing him dead any more than you do. Word is that he was a good guy."

"Will his family come to the funeral?" David asked softly.

"His family is scattered, David, but I've managed to get a hold of his father at last. I'm working on the rest," Bernie returned.

OOOOOO

Dennis Merton glanced at his wristwatch and noticed with dismay that it was close to ten pm. He got out of the black Ford Anglia police car at the front of the General Hospital in Ashfordly and headed inside. Moments earlier he'd gotten a report from Steve Crane from the site. DC Lucas was teaming up with him in order to get some more clues as of to what had happened. They had agreed to proceed with caution should the perpetrator still be in the vicinity.

Roadblocks were being organized and the railway master had been notified. DC Travis had been sent to the station to see to it that no one suspicious left on the night train. Unfortunately that was all they could do at the moment since it was dark outside. Search patrols would be on the agenda first thing in the morning. So much for the nice and quiet night he had envisioned with Jenny.

Sgt. Merton closed the distance to the emergency treatment room, or casualty section, in two strides, his coat swirling around his body. The stern look on his face and the authority his uniform carried caused children to run and hide behind their parents as he passed a waiting room.

Liz Merrick walked out of the closed room just as he rounded the corner. She smiled wearily as she recognized him and turned toward him as he strode up to her.

"Dennis," she acknowledged. "Any news?"

"The only thing I have is more questions," he stated, his voice short. "Reporters are already up at the mine. Lord Ashfordly is furious and I don't have the manpower to meet his demands of a policeman on standby at the Hall. However, I expect a call from his friend the Chief Constable any minute."

Liz pursed her lips into a thin line.

"Anyway, the man in there will not be unknown for much longer. When can we speak to him?" He demanded to know.

"Dennis," Liz complained. "He's unconscious and in a very bad way. You can't just barge in there. He will be taken into surgery the minute Doctor Jacobs gets here."

"It can't wait, Liz," he cautioned.

"I'm not allowing it," she returned angrily. "He's a patient and I'm a doctor and I'm telling you to wait."

"Fine," he bit off in a short tone of voice, his gloved hands unconsciously balling into fists at his sides. "But fingerprints and pictures will be taken before the surgery. I'm sure he wouldn't object."

Liz narrowed her eyes at him, clearly angry but she said nothing.

"What do you think happened?" he asked suddenly, the edge in his voice gone.

The doctor frowned at him and then pursed her lips into a thin line of displeasure. "I don't really know, Dennis, I am not sure what to tell you," she let on sincerely. "I can't say how long he's been there or how he sustained his injuries other than that it was caused by another person."

By the look on his face it wasn't what he had wanted to hear.

"No, no one seems to know anything around here," he replied sarcastically as he began to walk away.

Liz raised a questionable eyebrow and glared at him. "What do you…" she began smartly, angered by what he was implying. That he thought she should know more.

The petite doctor began to follow the police sergeant down the corridor. Taking three steps to match his stride it didn't take long before she caught up with him.

"Don't you dare," she began but as she watched him in the sharpness of the light her anger slowly morphed into concern.

He looked tired, exhausted even. The lines on his face more pronounced than usual and there was a tightness around his eyes that indicated a headache.

Dennis held up his hand in a surrendering gesture. "I'm sorry, Liz. I didn't mean…" he began, his voice softer. "Just forget it."

"Are you all right?" She asked kindly.

"Merton!" DI Shiner hollered, causing both the doctor and sergeant to jump, as he rounded the corner and headed their way.

Dennis glanced over his shoulder and then refocused his attention on his wife's colleague. "Everything is just great," he let on with a sarcastic smirk.

OOOOOO

PC Steve Crane sighed as he got up from his crouched position back at the mine. A bit further into the tunnel the glow of DC Lucas's flashlight cast an eerie light against the old walls. Crane shivered involuntarily at the dampness of the place and carefully scraped away the top layer of the sand with the tip of his shoe. Something glimmered in the faint light and he bent down again out of curiosity. He picked up an old silver coin and gently held it between his fingers, wiggling it slowly back and forth as if deep in thought.

The unknown man that Liz and Ben had found had been taken to the hospital, that he knew, but the question was what had happened before that? They had found blood on the dirty floor and on one of the neatly stacked shovels. Also there had been signs of the man being dragged to the location where he'd been found. Steve shook his head as more questions than answers appeared in his mind. Another man, although not a murder case this time, had been found on the Ashfordly Estate. Had they assumed wrong when they dismissed that the Hall had anything to do with it? He mused.

"Crane," Raymond Lucas said as he neared, carrying the shovel in his gloved hand. "I'd say we call it a day here. I can't find anything more in here that would be of importance to the investigation."

Steve nodded and got up, placing the coin safely in his pocket. "It's not much to go on. We only have the footprints, the marks in the sand and hopefully some fingerprints on that shovel," he said.

"I'll bring it to the station. Makes it easier than for you to have it on the motorcycle," the DC reasoned. "Besides, Shiner would probably want to call in the special crime scene team from the MET. They'll fine tune the place should we have missed something."

"Thanks," Steve said with a smile. "I'll head over to the hospital and see to it that we get fingerprints from the injured man for identification and to exclude his prints from any others."

OOOOOO

Alf looked up from the file he was studying as the door opened to reveal his sergeant. With a frown he waited for the DI to follow him in and was surprised to see the sergeant was alone.

"I thought DI Shiner would be with you?" the old, now retired, copper said.

"Why? Do you miss his presence, Ventress?" Merton asked in a sarcastic yet weary voice.

"It's just that he said he was to catch up with you at the hospital," Alf returned.

Merton nodded stoically. "And he did, he let on cryptically before changing subject. "Alf, what are you still doing here? It's late."

"Oh," he said with a van smile and removed the teabag from the freshly boiled water. "I'm in no hurry. You see Mrs. Ventress is having a gathering tonight and I believe it's best to be otherwise occupied."

"I see. While you have been otherwise occupied have you found anything of interest?" The sergeant asked smartly.

"Steve reported in just before you arrived," Alf offered. "He's taken the prints under the protest of the doctors."

Dennis chuckled sarcastically remembering Liz's words from earlier. His next question to Alf was cut short as the door to the station opened to reveal a worried Jenny Merton.

The sergeant frowned at the appearance of his wife, on the police station, close to midnight.

"Thank goodness, there you are," Jenny said as she breathed a sigh of relief.

He had the decency to look sheepish as she walked over to him.

"I thought something had happened," Jenny admonished. "I've tried to phone you for hours. I left a message for you and that was ages ago. Then I tried to phone Liz and the practice but there was no answer there either."

Dennis swallowed as he took her into his arms and held her tight. He was still marveling over the fact that someone cared so much about him and he felt like such a jerk when he was reminded of it in this way. He'd been working - coordinating things, ordering people around, taking orders from CID, arguing with Liz Merrick, gotten reports from various people and tried to come up with something to crack the case with that he hadn't had time to think of his wife for several hours. His most recent thought had been about the press and the publicity this new event would arise in the neighborhood.

"You could at least have called," she whispered softly into his chest as she closed her eyes and let the comfort of being in his presence sooth her frayed nerves.

"Sarge," Alf spoke up softly. "I'm sure whatever it was you were supposed to do back here can wait till tomorrow. I'll close up later. Just go home the two of you."

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/As always, thank you for reading and reviewing, so valuable to hear from you ;)_


	9. Clues and Discussions

**Chapter Nine – Clues and Discussions**

Jack Lane's head was spinning as he carefully made his way to his bedroom. He'd had too much to drink again. Out of his stupor he could hear voices from his past. His mother admonishing him, his brother getting into an accident, his brother's wife dying, his nephew dying. Images of various events swirled around in his mind, mostly tragic memories surfaced. He heard choppers in the background, heard commands over the radio and the staccato of gunfire.

Jack Lane had been a soldier a long time ago, before he'd tried his hands on goat farming. Despite everything he hadn't quite managed to catch up with his demons. Instead he'd only added more of them to his conscience until they were so many he couldn't handle them without taking a drink too many. These last events with his nephew had thrown him back and increased the bad dreams he usually had.

The police had come to his door and demanded to see him. They'd questioned him, and by all means they had every right to, but he was tired of being bullied by people in and out of uniform. He needed help, Jeremy had said so one day and the boy had no idea how right he'd been. However, no one seemed interested in helping him. He'd always had to manage on his own.

His musings and self-pity was cut short as he heard movement outside the door. They even wanted to bully him at night it seemed, not only the demons but the real people. Angrily he reached for the rifle that sat just inside the door, threw the door open, and startled the young woman who was about to knock.

"What do you want?!" He demanded.

She took it as a cue to leave and raised her hands in a gesture of surrender before carefully backing away from the door, turned on her heels and ran.

OOOOOO

Steve Crane jerked awake in the back of the waiting room, near the casualty section, at the General Hospital in Ashfordly. Tiredly he ran a hand through his hair, spotting a white clad man in the room with him. An orderly nodded politely at him with an apologetic look as he realized he'd awakened the young officer.

Steve smiled at him politely and watched him leave before getting up to stretch his sore muscles. As he did so he found the new Ashfordly Gazette laying neatly folded on the front row of waiting chairs. Curiously he walked over and froze as he saw the headline on the front page. "Attempted Murder at Ashfordly Estate."

Crane sighed wearily, he had hoped this day would start better than the day before but it seemed there was no such luck. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly seven in the morning. With a frown he walked up to a nearby nurse's station and rang the bell.

"Nurse," he said kindly. "I was wondering if you could find out if there is any news on the unknown man that was brought in yesterday evening. The doctor promised to come and talk to me as soon as the operation was complete," he explained.

The middle aged nurse nodded sternly at him. "I'll see what I can do constable," she promised as she began to sort through the files at the station.

"Officer," a man clad in a doctors' coat hollered from behind him, causing him to whirl around.

"I'm Doctor Barnes. Doctor Jacobs sent me down to get you," he explained. "I understand that you await news about the severely injured man that was brought in yesterday?"

Steve nodded.

The doctor nodded back. "He's been giving us some trouble and we nearly lost him during the operation while closing up an internal bleed. But, now it seems he's responding well to treatment. It could still be touch and go for a while and the next twenty four hours are critical," the doctor said seriously.

"I see," the young officer replied with a smirk. "At least he survived so far. That's more than Jeremy Watson did. Now that I know his condition I'll be back later to hear if there's any more news."

"Just call for Doctor Jacobs or Doctor Barnes and we'll update you," he promised.

OOOOOO

Phil Bellamy groaned and turned around in his bed trying to ignore the sharp knock on his apartment door. However, the caller was persistent and after a while he gave up and detangled himself from the sheets and got up, reaching for some clothes.

"There you are, Phillip," his grandmother said happily as he let her in. "You poor thing, you look tired even after a few hours of sleep."

He smiled politely at her as he gently removed her hand from his cheek. "I'm fine Granny," he said softly.

"I just had to come and see you before you headed off to work," she explained. "I've just had a word with Bertha, you know my friend from Aidensfield? We use to play bridge."

Phil's smile turned into a scowl at the mention of the name. "I know who she is," he replied.

"That horrible man, Jack Lane, he needs to be brought behind bars that much I'd tell you," she said.

'Jack Lane?' Phil mused carefully, wondering why that name sounded so familiar, then it struck him; he was the uncle of the deceased junior doctor.

"I'm sure your friend Bertha is just over exaggerating, Granny," he said carefully. "He's been having it rather tough lately."

The older Bellamy huffed. "Jean, the sweet young woman I told you about a while ago, that's moved in next to Bertha, came running home in the middle of the night claiming Mr. Lane had barged out on the porch with a rifle in hand and demanded she left him alone."

"Well, in all fairness; what did she do at his place late at night?" He asked.

"She wanted to offer him some help, they're interested in sheep farming and also she's practiced as a nurse abroad and been working late at the General for a while," she explained.

"I'm sure he meant no offence," Phil tried to smooth it over.

"Meant no offence," she echoed. "Phillip, didn't you hear what I just said? He threatened a sweet young girl whose only intention was to help."

Bellamy absentmindedly scratched the back of his head. Not sure what to say.

"After everything that's happened around here lately one might start to think he had something to do with the murder attempt last night," she finished.

"Ah," he began as he ushered her toward the door. "Speaking of that. I better head to the station. I don't want to upset Sergeant Merton with my late arrival."

OOOOOO

Sgt. Dennis Merton yawned tiredly as he pulled up outside the Aidensfield surgery.

"You look like I feel," Jenny quipped with a teasing smile as she leant over to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks," he replied wearily.

She sobered a bit. "Listen, I know you can't say when you'll be home but please, Dennis, call me," Jenny urged him as she got out of the car.

He nodded, trying not to think about work already as he watched his wife slip through the gate and reach the front door. He wasn't looking forward to the day – not at all.

OOOOOO

DI Shiner paced the floor of the duty room trying to envision the scenario in in head as the phone on Alf's desk started to ring. As Ventress was standing in the kitchenette Shiner reached for the phone and spoke into it with his sternest voice, not appreciating the disturbance.

" _DI Shiner, sir,"_ a voice spoke up at the other end of the line. _"DC Travis. I'm at the lab down in the basement at Ashfordly General and I have a match on the fingerprints on the unknown man brought in yesterday."_

Shiner frowned in surprise as he sat down at the edge of the desk. "That was fast," he said.

" _His name is Charlie Carter, sir. He resides in Liverpool usually. It would seem he's connected to Jeremy Watson in some way unknown to us yet,"_ DC Travis filled in.

"Evidently," the DI returned sarcastically. "Have you made enquiries to the department back in Liverpool?"

" _Yes, sir. Charlie Carter works at the Royal Hotel, down in Liverpool, as a clerk. However, the police have reason to believe he's involved in something more at the casino,"_ the young DC explained.

"Sounds interesting," Shiner replied. "Good work Detective Constable, return to base and we'll continue our discussion on how to proceed."

OOOOOO

Joyce Jowett stomped into the village hall, her low heels clicking on the hard coated floor, sending an echo through the hollow corridors as she neared the room in which the council meeting was to be held. A chatter of voices filled her ears as she walked through the open door and headed for an unoccupied chair at the end of the large wooden table.

Oscar Blaketon looked at her from the other end of the table, a half smirk on his face told her he enjoyed her late entrance. However, she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of an apology for her late appearances, after all, she was only one minute late.

"Well, now that we all are gathered," Blaketon said, silencing the chatter amongst the other six members of the council. "Why don't we begin with the protocol from last month?"

Politically involved, Mr. Bradford, a man in his early sixties with a slim figure and quite good looks, easily extracted the protocol from his elegant briefcase. "I believe that most of what has been discussed earlier is being resolved one way or another," he said carefully as he eyed each member of the council.

"I concur with Mr. Bradford," Mrs. Adams spoke up from two chairs down the row and opposite Mrs. Jowett.

Joyce discreetly pursed her lips together, her eyes narrowing somewhat but she refrained from saying anything. Mrs. Adams was a smart woman, who, to Joyce's dismay, also was in mind as a candidate for the Head of the Councils right hand. She was a cunning woman, lean and tall with blonde hair that could charm the pants off of most politicians around the area.

Ever since Mr. Jowett, a man of importance in the local politics, had died Joyce's own status in the society had diminished to being only respected and not listened to. That alone was enough to ignite Joyce's ire.

"I believe our most dire concern is the recent murder upon Ashfordly Estate," Emile Nolan said leaning slightly toward Blaketon with a poignant look on his face. "I fear that Sergeant Merton has lost control of the situation."

Oscar Blaketon smirked unhappily as he cast an eye on the dark haired man in his early fifties sitting next to him. Emile Nolan was a man with the looks that for most part lacked the brains to come up with something useful. His place in the council was secured by his late father who had been a very influential man at the Royal Hospital.

"I'm not in agreement with your statement, Nolan," Blaketon returned coldly. There had been times when he and Merton hadn't seen eye to eye but he had come to respect the former CID member over the years. The Scottish sergeant was a man of no nonsense and he didn't meddle in things, didn't like to see through the fingers. "Inside information has told me a great deal and I hope it will be enough to wrap up the murder investigation real soon."

"Inside information," Nolan echoed sarcastically. "Of course you have, Blaketon. Once a copper always a copper. The second man found at the Ashfordly Estate makes it obvious the police can't keep up with the case. Should they have any clues as to what they're actually doing everything would have been wrapped up by now."

"To the point gentlemen," Mrs. Adams said, attempting to steer the conversation back on track before it got out of hand. "And the point is that all this negative prints about our village and the local area is bad publicity. We want to get people interested in Aidensfield, Pickering, Strensford…"

"I don't care about the other villages, or even our nearest town called Ashfordly," Mr. Booth said gruffly as he leaned forward in his chair next to Jowett. "I only care about Aidensfield."

Joyce crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. "That is exactly the kind of retrogressive talk that prevents any of the local business to flourish around here. The key is to work together," she said.

The fairly wealthy farmer, Mr. Booth, raised a questionable eyebrow to the woman next to him. "Really, Mrs. Jowett?" He asked mockingly. "Tell me, when this department representative from the railroad, or delegation, turns up here and see that our station is not at all as popular as it gave appearance too during the bus strike and the freight train incident, will you happily allow him, or them, to close down our station and go to Pickering for train ride?"

A chatter broke out among the members that was silenced by the Chairman's club only.

Oscar Blaketon let go of the club and turned his gaze around the table. "In order for us to actually get somewhere why don't we start with the possible railway station closure concerning Aidensfield and take it from there?" He suggested.

"I don't see how we can prevent our station from being closed down should the Inspector see it necessary?" Lucas Hammers, a retired doctor from Ashfordly General said as he spoke up for the first time.

"It cannot be allowed for the Inspector to view the Aidensfield station as unnecessary. It would be a disaster for the commerce in the area," Joyce argued.

"What would it take then?" Emile challenged. "A funding of a sort?"

"Maybe, you're on to something for a change, Nolan," Oscar said with a cunning smirk. "Lord Ashfordly is disgusted at the amount of bad publicity the Estate has got in the Gazette. An arrangement up there would be a good idea to smooth it over."

"Sounds like a good idea," Mrs. Adams concurred. "We need some good publicity for a change, after all this horribleness with the dead man and the uncertainty of the railway."

"I'll speak to Lord Ashfordly in the morning," Oscar said. "He's still a bit rattled by the ongoing investigation of the Watson case."

"I do hope, for everyone's sake, Blaketon, that you're right about the murder being cleared up," Nolan said, his voice carrying a sharp undertone that didn't sit well with the former police sergeant.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Thank you for the reviews – you make me so happy ;)_


	10. The Beginning of Something Great

**Chapter Ten – The Beginning of Something Great**

"Whoever you are, just go away," a gruff voice called from the inside.

Liz Merrick carefully spared a glance at Ben who stood next to her. He'd insisted on following her as he'd learned what she was about to do and especially after Bertha, all worked up, had demanded that Jack would be brought into custody for scaring her young neighbor by pointing a gun at her and screaming in her face.

"Mr. Lane, please. It's Doctor Merrick. I am here with Mr. Norton," she explained.

There was some rustling inside, things being shifted and then the doorknob twisted around, revealing a tired and scruffy looking man in his late forties.

"What is it you want, Doctor Merrick?" He asked wearily, his eyes flacking from her to her company, unsure of what was going on.

"I don't want to cause you any trouble, Mr. Lane," she began carefully.

"I'm sure you don't," he drawled. "That I can manage on my own."

Liz gave him a faint smile as she nodded inwards. "Mind if we come in for a while? I believe that Bertha has enough to gossip about as it is."

Jack sighed as he allowed them entrance to his house. "That infuriating woman, she walks around up here with her dog every day, always lingering to see if something's happening," he said, his voice carrying an undertone of anger as he closed the door after them.

"My apologies, Doctor Merrick and Mr. Norton. There hasn't been a proper cleaning to this house for a very long time," Jack excused as he motioned for them to sit down at the kitchen table.

"Mr. Lane," Liz began, not quite sure on how to proceed. "The reason to why I'm here…"

Jack and Liz locked eyes as he moved over to the refrigerator. There was something in his gaze that spoke of uncertainty and helplessness at the same time.

"Sergeant Merton doesn't want to bring you in – in fact he don't have time. So we came to an agreement. As you might have guessed already it concerns the late night threat you made while pointing a gun in the face of one of your new neighbours."

Jack sighed and broke eye contact.

"You've been through so much already and from what I can gather you haven't had much help from anyone around," she said softly.

The goat farmer chuckled sarcastically. "That is an understatement, Doctor Merrick," he let on.

Liz smiled back and thought she'd gotten the opening she'd hoped for. "You know, I'm from London and according to Bertha also an upper-class want to be. I don't behave like a decent village doctor and I should have at least been arrested for trying to steal another woman's man right under her nose," she explained to him, secretly looking at Ben Norton wondering how he took the news.

"Anyway. I moved up here to get away from it all and to start anew. Instead he followed me here, begging me to come back with him. I wanted nothing to with him as I'd long ago realized this couldn't go on. Unfortunately he was shot and killed right outside the Aidensfield Arms. As a direct result the whole village got to know what I had been trying so hard to hide," she finished.

Ben carefully moved closer to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"The point is, Mr. Lane, that your past will continue to follow you unless you do something about it," Liz reasoned.

Jack nodded at her true words.

"I wanted to help you with that. I think it's time to move on," she said boldly. "How many nights – and days, have you been talking to your bottle and the bottle alone?"

"That's not your business," he said, suddenly angry.

However, he wasn't really angry at the good looking doctor sitting at his kitchen table. He was angry at himself for letting it go this far. For not being able to rise from the abyss he'd created for himself. It was just that he saw no reason for it.

"Please, Mr. Lane, tell me your story. I've told you mine," Liz said softly undeterred by his steely words.

He softened somewhat as he put the kettle on. "It's Jack, Doctor Merrick and it's a long story," he cautioned.

The doctor smiled happily. "We have time and, Jack, please call me Liz," she returned.

OOOOOO

Sgt. Merton merely gave Alf a curt nod as he strode past him heading for his office the third time that day, having been out on errands, as the officer was carefully trying to hide a large sandwich beneath the desk. When he was at the door the sergeant carefully turned around, a smug look on his face as Ventress retrieved the sandwich from beneath the desktop.

"Thanks for last night, Alf. I should have said so this morning but it slipped my mind," Dennis said with a faint upward curl to his lips in appreciation. He made to continue down the corridor to his office but stopped short and addressed the out of uniform clerk, which Alf now was. "And as far as I'm concerned I haven't seen any sandwich," he said.

Alf sighed with relief. "I better hurry then, before DI Shiner is finished in the interrogation room and walks in on me," he replied.

"Anything interesting happened?" Dennis asked curiously.

"The man has been identified as Charlie Carter, a clerk at a famous hotel down in Liverpool," Ventress explained.

"Good," the sergeant returned joyfully as he twisted the doorknob and walked into his office.

However, the peace and quiet only lasted for a minute before his phone started ringing. With a sigh he walked around his desk and sat down in his office chair, reaching for the phone.

"Ashfordly Police, Sergeant Merton speaking," he said.

" _Sergeant Merton, I'm glad I caught you,"_ the somewhat familiar voice said. _"It's Doctor Craven. I have some information that I think should be forwarded to you regarding Jeremy Watson,"_ he explained.

Dennis gently reached up with his hand to rub his forehead. "By all means doctor, enlighten me," he encouraged. He would grasp at straws at the moment just to get some kind of useful information regarding the man.

" _According to my nephew, Jeremy Watson was a good man but he didn't know how to handle pressure and colleagues that well. He lived the high life apparently, went to bars and clubs, casinos, you name it. He began to look tired, during his shifts a while back, and my nephew questioned him about it, concerned for his well-being. However, Watson claimed to be fine but something was obviously bothering the man,"_ the medical examiner explained.

Dennis sighed waiting patiently for the good doctor to come to the point. He wasn't interested in a life story.

" _As a result Watson had trouble focusing on his tasks and he made an error in surgery that set his professional relationship with his senior colleague on edge. The investigation made by the hospital deemed him guilty of negligence in his duties and he was expelled. Watson was practically begging them to reconsider but they wouldn't budge and the next day he turned up drunk to collect his things. My nephew didn't see him much after that but when he did he noted that the man was nothing but a shadow of his former self. At one time he offered his help but Jeremy Watson answered that he couldn't be helped, that it was too late. This was about a month ago,"_ Doctor Craven finished.

"Thank you, doctor. I believe I owe you a favor," Merton said cunningly into the phone.

OOOOOO

Lord Ashfordly huffed at the crowded area next to the old mine. It had happened in the outskirts of his land once again. Only this time the victim was alive. The police onsite examiners were sweeping the place clean and no one else had been allowed access to the site as of yet. A news reporter had sneaked in beneath the do-not-cross line that marked the crime scene which in this case began just outside the entrance. The day was almost over and no one had made any move as of to leave his premises.

The reporter managed to get one snap shot before he was roughly manhandled out by two officers brought over from Strensford to aide of the Ashfordly district.

When the reporter was well away from the restricted area he once again began to advance, this time he'd sought out his lordship in the crowd.

"Lord Ashfordly!" he hollered as he elbowed his way forward.

"Norton, handle this would you?" Ashfordly said dryly. "I thought it was already taken care of."

"I'm sorry, the last I heard from Mr. Mayer the man had been given a warning and driven off the premises," Ben returned.

"I'll have a word with my keeper, Mr. Mayer, as soon as I get back. Either he's become sloppy or this reporter is more persistent than the others," his lordship said unamused as he watched Ben striving to meet the reporter halfway.

Ashfordly then shifted his focus to a man clad in police uniform. "Excuse me, constable, when I this debacle to end?" He asked.

"Whom am I speaking with, sir?" The man asked politely as he made his way over to stand next to the lordship.

"My name is Lord Ashfordly. And it's my estate you're invading. Now, I would like to know how much longer you'll be examining this mine. It attracts unwanted attention," Ashfordly waved lazily toward the small crowd of villagers watching at a distance and then Norton talking to the reporter.

"My apologies, sir," the officer, in his mid-forties said as he realized the man's importance. "My superior officer, Lt. Ames is leading this investigation. He will pack up as soon as he deems the site secured in terms of evidence."

"Forgive me, constable?" Ashfordly said, wanting the man to give his name.

"Sergeant Reed, sir," he replied.

Ashfordly nodded. "This is quite new for me. I'm not accustomed to having a small police force on my land. Besides I was under the impression that Sergeant Merton was to handle this since he's the man in charge of the police station covering Ashfordly and the little village called Aidensfield just down the road."

"We're acting under his command, sir and also directly under CID. We have reason to believe those two victims – one dead and one alive, are connected. Therefore this is a high risk case…"

"That's not what I wanted to hear," Ashfordly cut him off dryly.

The sergeant smirked. "Then I'll offer my apologies, my lordship. However, I can't say anything but the truth. If you wish to talk to Lt. Ames at length, I'll have him report to the Hall as soon as possible. Please be advised that it might take some time since he's to report to Sergeant Merton first."

Ashfordly let out a frustrated sigh but kept his appearance. However when he spoke, it was in clipped tones. "Sounds fair enough. Although I must caution you that I might have a word with my friend the Chief Constable before that."

"Then I must caution you, sir. We do not fall under the jurisdiction of the North Yorkshire Constabulary and therefore not under his command," the sergeant explained politely. "I will have my superior officer visit you later on as you wished. Have a good day, sir."

OOOOOO

Doctor Liz Merrick casually cast a glance at her wristwatch as Jack excused himself to hand her another cup of his refreshing tea. Ben had had to leave several hours earlier, courtesy of his job, as his lordship had needed him. However, Liz hadn't in her wildest fantasy thought she would still be at the goat farmer's place. She found herself to be a volunteering therapist. The man had opened up to her, it seemed he'd been wanting to open up to someone for years but hadn't really found anyone to confide in. Unfortunately he was the kind of proud man and former military man that didn't sought out help from the medical expertise unless he found it absolutely necessary. Also he'd stopped trusting the police force after the whole debacle with his brother's arrest, the disbanding of his family and the death of his wife. And in the entire village there seemed to be no friend of his.

He was as much of an outsider as she was despite he'd grown up at the place.

Liz was taken back by the graphic scenes he'd described of times in his military service and she also admonished the ways the bullies in school had diminished him to something not even worth the dirt under their shoes while the teacher had chosen to look the other way. She felt sick when she heard about his brother's family and their tragedy. He'd tried to move on but the goat business didn't exactly flourish. He was chased by old demons, the bank threatened to take the farm from him and no one wanted to give him a helping hand. The only person who seemed genuinely interested in his well-being had been his nephew, Jeremy Watson.

Now that the only person he'd grown fond of during the latter years had been found murdered not too far from him, he'd found it hard to move on. Jeremy's death had finally started tearing him apart and he'd resorted to the bottle he'd proudly laid to rest only a few years earlier.

"Jack," Liz said as the man came back and sat down beside her. "If you're willing I'd like to set up a meeting with a friend of mine down in London. He'll not help you but he'll guide you back so that you can have a life you're happy with."

He nodded, almost shamed, his eyes adverted from her.

"There is no shame in this, Jack, so please look at me," Liz said softly. "What you've been through shouldn't have been brought upon anyone. You took up a place in the military service to take out the bad guys, a kind of revenge for being bullied at school."

He nodded, his eyes finally meeting hers.

"But you saw things there you wasn't really ready for. You did things in the line of duty that still haunt you in your dreams, you killed others. You came back to a place where no one understood what you'd been going through and tried to take up your life the way it was before you left, although without the bullying," she guessed.

"If I let them take the farm. I might be able to go to London," he reasoned.

"No, we'll look after it. I'm sure I can round up some people who'd want to lend a hand. And don't worry about the money, like I said he's a friend of mine and the trip there as well as the accommodation can be arranged," she returned.

"You would do that for me?" he asked in awe, not quite believing her.

Liz smiled. "Just be ready to leave early tomorrow morning and I'll see to the rest," she said.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Another chapter as requested ;)_


	11. The Attempt

**Chapter Eleven – The Attempt**

"So," the DI mused thoughtfully. "Our victim was involved in the casino business down in Liverpool?"

"I wouldn't say involved in the way you are referring to, sir," Dennis pointed out. "My guess is that he was merely an unfortunate victim. A man who failed to pay his debts to whoever is running the loan shark business at the moment."

Shiner nodded seriously. "How much do you know about it?" He asked in a straight forward way.

"I'm afraid I have no knowledge of anything like that anymore," Merton returned with a faint upward curl to his lips. "As you well know I was sent here as a punishment. Since then I've been busy serving his lordship, listening to gossip, escorted a few cows off the road…"

The DI couldn't help but to chuckle at the former detective constable, who'd been on the verge of getting the title detective sergeant had he not taken a swing at his superior officer.

"Very well, Merton," he replied. "I'll be heading over there. A car should be waiting for me as we speak. We keep in touch in case of further development before I have a chance to head back here. I'll be leaving DC Lucas at your disposal for the time being. I suggest you use him wisely."

"I sense the hidden message, sir. That you don't hold my men's sharpness high," he answered quickly.

"Good bye, Dennis," DI Shiner returned. "By the way – John Lowey would be the man nowadays back in Liverpool."

OOOOOO

PC Steve Crane left his place outside Charlie Carter's room to get a sandwich. He was starving having had nothing to eat during the course of the day. At first he'd checked in at the Ashfordly Estate, then he'd been around the Aidensfield village trying to calm everyone down after the word was out concerning the most recent events.

Blaketon hadn't been happy and wondered what really went on behind closed doors since he'd told the other members of the council that the police had everything under control.

After his rounds across his patch and a check in at the Ashfordly station he'd once again set course for the Ashfordly General Hospital to take over the watch of the injured man from DC Lucas.

Crane strolled down the corridors and into the cafeteria muttering under his breath at the queue despite the late hour. He excused himself, feeling sheepish for it, and walked straight up to the counter and quickly ordered a ham sandwich. He apologized to the people waiting for their turn and headed back to his post.

At first Steve didn't find something amiss but then as he cast a glance through the door he noticed an orderly in the room with Mr. Carter. A gut feeling - afterwards he couldn't explain it - made him walk inside the room. The orderly, unbeknown of the officer approaching, carefully pressed a cushion over the patient's face intending to suffocate him. He increased the pressure further and further.

All this registered in Steve's brain, still it took him a moment to comprehend what he was really seeing.

"Hey!" Steve shouted, momentarily distracting the white clad man. His sandwich forgotten he lunged for the orderly.

They both took a tumble to the floor, the pillow still over Mr. Carter's face but without pressure. The monitors had been disconnected so as not to arise any suspicion from the real medical experts.

Steve had the element of surprise on his side and therefore gained the upper hand at first but then the fight got even and the orderly landed a few punches at the officer. As the young police constable was down the orderly made a run for it and managed to get to the far end of the bed before he was roughly taken down and crashed to the floor as Steve reached out to grab his ankle. Crane's father was in the military and his mother was somewhat of a master of self-defense so he'd learned from the best.

Although the fake orderly wasn't a pussycat either. Just as Steve reached for his handcuffs the man managed to strike him hard across the head and he slumped to the floor, the world having gone black.

Unfortunately, for the fake orderly, the commotion inside the room had called the attention of several visitors to people in rooms aside. Nurses had been called to investigate the strange noises and a doctor was just outside as he made run for it.

Doctor Jacobs, Mr. Carter's assigned physician, spared the man little or no attention at all as he dashed through the corridor. Instead he rushed into the room to find Mr. Carter barely alive and PC Crane oblivious to the world.

A nurse appeared in the doorway just as the doctor made a quick assessment of the bedridden patient. "Notify the police immediately and page Doctor Barnes," he ordered.

OOOOOO

Sergeant Dennis Merton had had one tiring day, it grated on his nerves. He was all consumed in his work and irritated by the fact that things didn't seem to go his way no matter how hard he tried at the moment.

The only good thing was that Constable Crane hadn't been injured, except for a few scrapes and a lump on his head, during the failed attempt on Charlie Carter's life back at the hospital. The young constable had lost consciousness for a short amount of time but the doctors found nothing wrong after a thorough examination and released him.

Had the man, dressed like an orderly, actually succeeded in pulling off the hit, he would have had a trying time to keep his job.

Dennis found himself longing for a quiet day with Jenny without any disturbances such as irritating villagers, insufferable lordships, former police officers that wanted to crack the case to show off or CID officers ordering him around.

He felt the dryness in his mouth and knew he had to eat and drink something. Despite taking the pills to keep his diabetes in check he felt run-down. He'd just ignored his body like he used to do back in his CID days, before he came to Ashfordly, and he couldn't do that anymore.

He'd neglected breakfast since he hadn't had time and he'd missed lunch because of Lord Ashfordly summoning him to the Hall. He'd tried to eat something later on but gave up as soon as the call came through from the hospital about the attempt on Charlie Carter's life.

On top of that the village council demanded he'd do something about the recent events. The Chief Constable wanted him to report to him directly. CID wanted to take over the case. Jenny was once again disappointed in him concerning the amount of time spent at work instead of home. Phil Bellamy was a wild card at the moment due to his lost child. Oscar Blaketon and Alf Ventress sat at nights back at the Aidensfield Arms trying to deduce some plan to entrap the assassin.

Sitting dozing in his chair he startled as there was a soft knock on the door. His eyes flew open as Liz Merrick entered his office.

"Liz," Dennis acknowledged and cast a quick glance at his wristwatch. "What brings you over at this hour?" He asked casually.

"I have some news," she said softly and he could easily detect the same tiredness in her stance and eyes as in his own.

Her voice was subdued enough to let him know that she was the bearer of bad news.

He sighed dejectedly. "Is he dead?" The Scottish sergeant asked.

Liz shook her head, surprising him. "No, but his life is hanging by a thread. The attempt made on his life was far from failed. If the stats don't improve within the next twenty-four hours the hope of him getting better will be lost.

"Great," he muttered sarcastically. "If he dies I have nothing that can tie our friends from Liverpool to the death of Jeremy Watson and this attempt on Charlie Carter."

"What about other leads?" Liz asked softly, curiously.

"I don't have anything reliable to go on," he let on wearily as he rose from his chair. "I better get home then."

Liz looked at him in concern. "Dennis, are you all right?" She asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He replied, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice as he reached up to rub his temples, trying to ease the headache that refused to leave him alone.

"Have you eaten anything today?" She said, ignoring his smart reply.

"Please, Liz, don't go there," he returned, this time his voice was weary and soft.

"You are sick, Dennis. You need to take care of yourselves. Diabetes is nothing to play with even though it's fairly easy to treat nowadays," she said, watching him carefully as he walked over to the row of hooks and tucked his coat under his arm.

"At least I trust you've taken your pills and had some fruit. The last thing I want to explain to Jenny is why I'm taking you off duty and admitting you to hospital.

"I'll be fine, Liz. You needn't to worry about me. Jenny is worrying enough as it is, that is when she's not chiding me for being away from home and not seeing her," he said with a vain smile as he reached for his hat.

"So, nothing at all?" Liz asked, returning to their previous discussion.

"So far, indecisive, circumstantial… "He trailed off as he adjusted his sergeant hat. "I'm not looking forward to having DI Shiner back here looking over my shoulder at this mess."

Liz walked out of the sergeant's office and blinked the tiredness out of her eyes and frowned as she turned back to look at him.

"Anyway, thanks for letting me know, Liz," he returned, appreciating her visit although he refused to give answer to her unspoken question about his health.

"Anytime, Dennis," she returned with a smile as he too got out of his office. "Oh, by the way. What do you know about goat farming?"

OOOOOO

Gina glanced up from the newspaper she was reading every now and then, under the counter, as Oscar Blaketon made his way over having come back from the meeting. She frowned as he shrugged out of his coat and walked over to the stash of whiskey to pour himself a glass.

"Interesting agenda today?" She asked curiously. "It's quite late. I thought you'd be back sooner."

Oscar let the whiskey soothe his raw throat before turning around to face her. "I suppose you could say that," he replied thoughtfully, answering her question. "It's mostly about the imminent threat of the railway station being closed down."

"That's understandable," Gina reasoned.

"Yes, I agree. It's just that I've been sitting the whole afternoon – you could add evening - listening to one ridiculous suggestion after another about how to prevent the Inspector from deeming it unnecessary."

"Oscar," Gina teased softly. "Is that your polite way of saying that the other council members are daft?"

"Most of them are a pain in the butt," he returned in annoyance. "Actually, Emile Nolan, believe it or not, made the best suggestion. The suggestion was to approach Lord Ashfordly and organize a fundraiser and suggest that the money would be donated to the railway in order to keep it should it come to that."

Gina snorted. "And he wouldn't dare to approach his lordship I take it?" She asked.

"I volunteered since I knew the rest of them would suggest it anyway; when they'd argued long and hard enough about it," the former police sergeant admitted. "Although, I doubt driving over there to talk about it at the moment will be meaningful."

"So, what kind of event can we look forward to up at Ashfordly Hall?" Gina said with a smile. "I hope it's not a murder chase."

"I'll let you know as soon as I have figured that one out," Oscar replied. "Also, I hope Merton knows what he's doing. The villagers are worried and concerned for their safety. His lordship seems to hide out somewhere and no children are allowed outside the school during the days from now on until the murder case has cleared up."

Gina's eyes was involuntarily drawn to the headline of the days newspaper where it could be read about a crestfallen police force, an enraged farmer threatening a young woman, a very badly injured man found in a mine and a likely conspiracy at the Hall. Somehow it all felt like yesterday's news to her.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Thank you guys ;) I love to hear from you._


	12. A Wonderful Scent

**Chapter Twelve – A Wonderful Scent**

Jenny Merton waited just inside the front door as Dennis finally arrived home. She was dressed for a night out with a jacket draped over her shoulder and a matching pair of shoes.

The Ashfordly sergeant had to look twice at his beautiful wife before registering what he was seeing. He'd been caught in utter surprise having prepared himself for a dressing down, instead she stood there ready to leave with a dazzling smile on her lips.

"Jenny," he said, unable to hide the grin creeping over his face. "Fancy going somewhere?"

She nodded. "I'm only waiting for my husband to shrug out of his uniform jacket and change into a civilian jacket," she let on softly. "I may not like having you away so much but if it means you're going to take me out on fancy restaurants every night to compensate – then I might accept it."

"I take it you liked the food and company yesterday then?" He returned with a sly grin as he got into his green Manchester jacket.

"So, Mr. Merton where are you taking your lovely wife this evening?" She asked cunningly as they walked out of the house, locked the door and headed for the car.

He chuckled as he opened the car door for her. "Well, how does a late supper at a castle sound to you?" He asked.

Jenny crinkled her nose and beamed at him as he walked around the car to get into the driver's seat. "Sounds wonderful to me," she said happily.

Within thirty minutes they were seated at a candle lit table enjoying a late night out. No one knew them as the doctor's aide and pharmacist or the Ashfordly police sergeant since they didn't frequently go to visit the castle. Therefore they could enjoy themselves without being disturbed.

"So," Jenny began carefully as they were halfway through the midcourse. "I heard you and Liz talked about Jack Lane's goat farm?"

Dennis frowned innocently. "Seems rumours travels fast," he said cryptically.

"Come on," Jenny admonished lightly, a smile still on her lips. "We've talked about it too so I know that's the truth."

"I give up," he replied, raising his hand slightly from the table in mock surrender. "Yes, we talked about it and, like I told her, I'm a police sergeant, not a stable boy."

"Oh, I don't know. I think I can picture you in a coverall, as a shepherd on the moors," she teased.

"If you're trying to talk me into helping out, just forget it," he returned seriously.

"Don't be like that. It would be fun," Jenny countered.

He reached for his beer with an innocent look on his face. "Says who?" He asked.

"Me. I will be there and Liz and Ben. Hopefully even Gina and Phil, those two needs a distraction," Jenny reasoned.

Dennis face lit up. "There you see. There's no need for me to be there," he countered. "Imagine Bertha's expression should she see the Ashfordly police sergeant herding sheep."

Jenny broke into a grin. "That would be marvelous," she said joyfully.

As the evening turned into late night both Jenny and Dennis were happy and relaxed together, more so than they'd been for weeks. The discussion about helping out at Mr. Lane's farm however seemed an open subject.

"Dennis," Jenny said as they left the restaurant, heading for the car. "I don't want this night to end."

"Come on now, Jen," he said softly into her ear as he snaked an arm around her middle. "There will be more of them."

Their attention solely on each other they didn't notice the man approaching the entrance to the castle from the other direction and bumped into him as a result.

"I'm sorry," Dennis mumbled apologetically. "My wife and I…"

Jenny's smile vanished to be replaced by confusion as she felt her husband tense next to her. She turned slightly, focusing on the man before them but he was unknown to her. However, his deep blue eyes sent chills down her spine.

Dennis unconsciously tightened his grip around his wife's middle and drew her closer to him. The man standing before him hadn't been seen for years. He'd vanished into thin air that night several years before when Sergeant Merton was Detective Constable Merton working for the CID.

They stared at each other. The man, unknown to Jenny, looked surprised at first then she saw recognition in his eyes and then the malice directed at her husband that made her squeeze Dennis' hand for comfort and security.

Both Merton and Forbes were older but the recognition was mutual as they looked at each other. Then as sudden as he'd first appeared Forbes vanished into the night.

OOOOOO

The respected, although highly irritating, upper-class man, Emile Nolan awoke with a start as a scream echoed through the large house. Without knowing what was going on he threw the bedcovers aside and opened the large lead encased glass door leading out in the garden and stopped short in his tracks as his feet connected to the moist lawn.

Angelica Nolan stood frozen next to the large pond in the middle of the garden, the look on her face changing from despair to surprise and then to anger as she saw her husband. "Wait till I get my hands on Scripps," she seethed. "I'll kill him with my bare hands!"

Emile frowned. "What's going on? I thought you'd caught an intruder the way you screamed," he said.

"My precious fishes, in the pond. He's killed all my fish with this…this, fertilizer," she let on.

Emile crossed his hands over his chest. "Well, then it's certainly effective," he replied. "The heavy rain pour tonight must have washed it away from the flowerbeds and into the pond."

"Would you shut up!" she growled. "I'll let the entire village know what he's done and then I'll see to it that he pays for new ones flown here from London. And I demand that you take this up at the next council meeting, Emile," she finished.

OOOOOO

Liz Merrick glanced through the window as she heard a car coming. It was still early in the morning so regular traffic wouldn't stop by and certainly no patients since the practice didn't open for at least an hour. The doctor frowned and then smiled as she watched Jenny get out of the Rover and saw Dennis at the wheel.

The doctor went out in the hallway to open the door for her aide and pharmacist as she neared the house.

"Is he making up for lost time at night?" Liz teased lightly as Jenny jumped slightly when she opened the door. The smile morphed into confusion and slight worry as she studied her normally happy friend.

"You look spooked, Jenny. What's the matter?" She asked.

Jenny Merton shrugged out of her coat and hang it on the hook inside the door. "I don't know, Liz. I have this funny feeling, like something bad is about to happen," she said seriously.

"Why?" Liz wondered aloud. "The sun is shining, you got a lift from your husband and we shouldn't have that many patients today."

"Yesterday we met a man, Liz. When we stopped by the old castle to have quiet evening," Jenny began hesitantly. "I've never seen him before but this one time was enough to send a chill down my spine. He was a felon, I think he's dangerous too, Liz, and he recognized Dennis."

"Okay," Liz replied with uncertainty. "Why don't you come into my house instead of taking your place behind the counter? We can sort the drugs later together. I'll get us some nice tea and we start from the beginning."

OOOOOO

Dennis waited patiently at the railway station for the morning train to arrive. After a while the old locomotive whistled nearby and the next minute it appeared behind the hillocks. He was in no hurry to greet the person coming to him but yet he didn't want to linger any longer than necessary – especially not as something sharp and pungent attacked his nostrils.

A another few minutes DI Shiner, having ditched his company back in Liverpool, got off the incoming train and walked up to him and acknowledged his presence. Since they'd spoken on the phone beforehand the DI went straight to business.

"Jonathan Forbes?" Shiner said in confusion as they started walking toward the waiting police car.

Merton nodded seriously, still doubting whom he'd seen the night before. "I don't believe in coincidences, at least I didn't. The name should ring a bell to you, sir," he said.

Shiner sighed as he reached up to rub his tired eyes. "Liverpool, the smuggler league, seven years ago," he returned.

Dennis nodded. "I remember the joint cooperation between Leeds and Liverpool CID and the exchange program," he said. "Now, what is interesting is that Jonathan Forbes escaped trial and hasn't been seen since then. He was written off as dead if I recall correctly?"

"Until now, that is," Shiner returned deadpan before making a face. "What is that smell?"

OOOOOO

Joyce Jowett walked out on the platform, a cup of tea in hand from the small cafeteria, to inhale the fresh country air and almost choked on her breath as a sticky, awful smell of ammonia pestered her nostrils.

The council woman stared at a dark trail running from the entrance stair and over the platform till it ended on a flowerbed further down the line.

"What on earth?" she exclaimed with a frown as she put down her tea and made it down the platform toward the flowerbed next to the railway master's office.

A bit further down, just outside the railway area, at the end of the platform, stood a red truck looking suspiciously like the one Vernon Scripps used to drive. As she tried to make out what was going on she saw David Stockwell applying something black and murky on a few hanging flowerpots next to the entrance.

She began to walk toward him, her features grim. "What are you think you're doing?" She demanded angrily, causing the large man to drop the sack and involuntarily take a step back.

"We are establishing the base for a new large flower bed," Vernon Scripps explained as he walked up to them, having been standing in front of the truck.

"Was there something wrong with the other one?" She questioned, hands on her hips.

"The railway master wanted this rear entrance to be somewhat extraordinaire," Vernon let on.

"Well, it certainly is already," Joyce countered angrily. "It stinks like no one else's."

"It will get better. I promise you, Mrs. Jowett," Scripps assured her. "We'll add a layer of soil and top dress as well before the flowers arrive."

"If I where you I would add the soil rather quickly because in one hour from now the railway delegation will arrive and if you cause them any grief with your projects, business will be banned around here and that includes your taxi service," she returned in annoyance a she turned on her heels to head back Stevenson.

David took off his cap as he watched Joyce stomp back toward the railway master's office, her head held high and her stance irritated. "Mrs. Jowett seem angry, Mr. Scripps," he deduced.

Vernon drew in a frustrated breath as he turned to look at his so called assistant. "You don't say, David," he muttered.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Thank you for your lovely reviews ;)_


	13. Wanted Dead or Alive

**Chapter Thirteen – Wanted Dead or Alive**

DI Shiner walked at a brisk pace through the entrance of the Ashfordly General Hospital with PC Crane in tow. The young officer looked a little worse for wear but never once complained.

The DI suspected he had a nice dull headache tagging along with the impressive shiner on his cheek and the lump on his head but didn't mention it. He supposed he could have called the officer on it and have him relieved of duty to recuperate but Crane seemed so intent on following through that he figured it was no point in doing so. Besides the police constable had assured him that he was capable of caring out his duties.

The two of them was going to pay an unannounced visit to Mr. Carter. It was high time to question the man about his involvement in the illegal gambling business down in Liverpool and his connections with Jonathan Forbes and Jeremy Watson.

DC Lucas got up from the chair he was sitting on, just outside Charlie Carter's room, as he spotted his superior and the constable.

"Anything to report?" Shiner asked curiously, with a raised eyebrow, as he glanced into the room.

"I'm afraid, sir, that the doctors are a bit protective of him at the moment. However, as of what I can understand, he's improving. Although he hasn't been conscious for very long," DC Lucas explained as a man clad in a doctor's coat slipped out of the room.

"Doctor Jacobs?" The high ranking CID officer asked.

When the man gave a curt nod he took it as a cue to introduce himself. "I'm DI Shiner, CID. I understand you've already met Constable Crane."

Doctor Jacobs nodded with a faint smile as he glanced over Shiner's shoulder to greet the young officer. "Yes, and I thought he should be home and resting up a bit after that blow yesterday," the doctor admonished.

"Do not worry, Doctor Jacobs. I feel fine," Crane assured him smoothly.

The doctor, appearing to be about the same age as Shiner, gave him a look that told Steve he didn't believe him. However, he let it pass and instead focused on his current patient. "I take it you're here to see Mr. Carter?"

The DI nodded with a stern look.

"I won't force you to turn around and come back later but I would appreciate if you did. Mr. Carter has had a rough night and his condition is very serious. I understand that other lives may be in danger so therefore I'll agree to let you see him but it is prudent that you don't stay long and should you upset the patient I'll have you thrown out," he cautioned them.

"Fair enough, Doctor Jacobs," DI Shiner replied.

Charlie Carter weakly lifted his head from the pillow as two unknown men entered his room. "Police?" He managed.

"DI Shiner, CID and this is Constable Crane," he replied by way of introduction.

Carter seemed to relax as his eyes lingered on Crane for a minute. "You're the constable that saved my life yesterday," he deduced gratefully.

Steve nodded sheepishly, not wanting to be pointed out as a hero.

Carter nodded, his eyes closing momentarily, and he seemed to gather himself. "I knew what I was getting into but as it is I won't stand a chance when getting back," he informed cryptically, his voice no more than a whisper.

Shiner nodded. "You seem to be caught between a rock and a hard place," he let on.

"I believe their actions speak for themselves. I'm used merchandise to them and ready to be disposed of," Carter said.

"You're under arrest, Mr. Carter. I feel I should tell you so. When you're well enough to be transferred back to Liverpool, where you came from, such arrangements will be made," Shiner informed him curtly. "An interesting part in all of this is the fact that you match the profile made by our special crime scene investigation team while investigating the death of Jeremy Watson."

At this Carter said nothing but something in his eyes gave him away.

"You see, Mr. Carter, we've been quite busy the last thirty-two hours, since you were brought in," Steve spoke up. "We know you drove up to Strensford, got on the train there and then found and followed Jeremy Watson from the train."

"May we ask why?" Shiner said.

"I have something better for you," Carter whispered and licked his dry lips. "But I want a reduced sentence and protection should I tell you."

"The way I see it the police force has already demonstrated that they're capable of fending off an attempt on your life, Mr. Carter. As for any reduced sentence, that could be arranged should I deem the information you're offering worthy of such," the DI informed him.

Carter hesitated but understood he had little choice in the end. "I was sent here to retrieve the money Jeremy Watson carried," he began.

Shiner and Crane shared a look.

"Jeremy Watson was just an unfortunate man. He gambled regularly and he managed to lose more money than he gained from his profession, whatever that was. I don't know why he did it. I suppose he got a kick out of it."

"Something happened at the hospital," Crane let on cryptically.

"He was a doctor?" Carter asked in surprise.

Shiner nodded carefully.

"Finally, Watson hit the jackpot, he got enough money to be able to get out of his debts and then some but my boss wanted more and when Watson took off with the money the boss hit the roof and ordered me to go and collect more. In the end there was no other way than to put him to rest," Carter finished solemnly.

"You made several errors, Mr. Carter," Shiner returned. "One was that you lingered instead of getting back. It made you a liability in the organization. It also means you've not gained enough trust in the ranks to be able to do so without repercussions."

"We urge you to come forward as of what you know," Steve added.

"We've had eyes on John Lowey for several months," Shiner said, deciding to play his trump card. "Your boss is a hard man to nail."

For a moment Charlie Carter looked shockingly surprised at the mention of his boss by name but then he seemed to accept that the CID were on to the casino business.

"Fair enough," Carter said in defeat. However, the man you'll be looking for in the immediate area is…"

"Jonathan Forbes," Shiner deduced cunningly. "A slippery type that will cross any boundary to get his goal."

"No," Carter said, completely throwing the DI.

There was a knock on the door before Doctor Jacobs appeared. "I can't allow this any longer. My patient needs to rest," he cautioned.

"Two minutes," Shiner replied, irritated at being interrupted.

"I'll hold you to that, Detective Inspector," the doctor returned.

"Greg Nichols," Carter said, steering the conversation back. "He's Lowey's right hand man, or at least aspiring to be."

Shiner opened his mouth to ask something more when alarms went off. Within seconds the doctor and nurses rushed into the room and the officers was politely shoved through the door.

OOOOOO

Jenny Merton smiled, then the smile widened until she was openly grinning as she watched her husband, dressed in a blue coverall, trying to call on the dog so that it would in turn see to it that the sheep got neatly stacked in the fold.

Dennis reached up with his hand to wipe the perspiration from his forehead and curiously turned around as he heard a soft giggle from behind him.

"Having fun have we?" He asked dryly as he saw Jenny standing in the doorway to the shed, watching him.

"I just never pictured you like this," she said amused, her eyes sparkling.

"Remind me again why I'm doing this?" He returned.

"How's it coming?" Ben Norton asked as he walked up from behind Jenny and headed in the sergeant's direction. "You should be a natural, used to ordering people around the whole day," he said with a soft smirk.

Jenny couldn't contain her laugh any longer as Liz walked up to her, having seen to the sheep inside.

Phil managed an indignant look at Ben as he stopped mopping the floor next to the mitten, having overheard.

"No pun intended," Ben assured the constable as he began to walk toward fold.

Dennis glanced at his wristwatch. "Well, it's been a pleasure," he said sarcastically. "Unfortunately I must return to the station. DI Shiner and Steve should be finished questioning Mr. Carter."

This caught Liz's attention. "Questioning? Dennis, the man is not out of the woods yet," she admonished.

The sergeant nodded as he walked up to her and his wife. "Well, the way I see it it's better to hear him out now otherwise it might be not at all," he returned seriously then nodded at Norton who stood some distance away. "Ben, show them how shepherding is done. I'll take my constable and leave the premises."

Jenny walked up to him and leaned in for a kiss which he returned. "See you later then," she added softly.

Gina walked out of the house just in time to see Merton and Bellamy get into the sergeant's Rover.

"Where are they going?!" she hollered across the backyard so as to be heard by the others.

"Duty calls apparently!" Jenny shouted back.

Gina shrugged. "I've finished tidying up the kitchen so I thought it calls for tea and biscuit," she let on.

"Sounds like a good idea, Gina!" Ben answered from where he stood having just rounded up the last couple of sheep.

OOOOOO

A ghost of a smile danced on Forbes's dry lips as he crouched behind a boulder, gun in hand. The boss would be pleased to know that the money would soon be returned and that Greg Nichols would be out of the picture. Jonathan could never picture Nichols next to the boss anyway – it wasn't in him to be so high up in the organization. Besides, Forbes owned John Lowey or the man, as he was called in the underground circles, his life. He'd been recruited by him and had seen to it that the police lost their tracks seven years ago.

He knew of course that DI Shiner and CID was on to the case with Jeremy Watson but from there to know what was really going on was a long shot and he doubted that the country bobbies up in North Riding would have any idea of who he was. The only wildcard in his equation was former DC Merton. There had been no doubt he'd recognized him. The trouble was that he had no idea if the DC was still working for CID or some other branch of the law up in Yorkshire or if he was simply enjoying a quiet vacation with his wife. Forbes decided not to dwell on it and imagined he would be far away from the villages around Ashfordly before nightfall.

Jonathan had followed Nichols the other day and seen him take necessary actions to leave. He therefore knew that Nichols would have the money on him and that he would be dressed casually as not to draw any unwarranted attention when it was time for him to board the train.

Sadly Carter would seem to be all right but with Nichols out of the picture he doubted the CID could do much down in Liverpool. Forbes had never had any real contact with Carter because he was a collector and Forbes himself was somewhat of a sidekick to the boss and never really showed around the casino, he just made sure everything ran smoothly. He didn't have time to take care of Carter and frankly he really didn't need too because the moment – if he was stupid enough – he shows himself back in Liverpool, his life would be over. Forbes' first priority was to get away from the village and back to the city. He would just go and collect his merchandise first and see to it that Nichols never made it back.

That's how he had ended up next to the road crouched behind that boulder sitting in the ditch. A tree had conveniently fallen over the driving lane so he knew that Nichols would have to stop. Even if he didn't get out of the car Forbes deduced he had still plenty of opportunities to aim and fire at his so called associate and take care of business.

He crouched lower as the sound of an engine drew near.

A green Alfa Romeo, of a sports car type, came speeding around the corner and the driver stomped on the brakes as the tree got visual.

Forbes' finger closed around the trigger of the rifle.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/I'm so glad you like it ;)_


	14. A Piece of the Action

**Chapter Fourteen – A Piece of the Action**

PC Steve Crane willed for the police motorcycle to go faster over the moors. He still had trouble to connect all the dots in the case to each other but he knew enough to grow concerned. Jeremy Watson had somehow gotten involved with an underground organization down in Liverpool that hassled people for money after they'd given them a loan. They targeted people that played in the casinos for a little fun. When Watson had gotten deep enough in his gaming addiction he had been approached, just as one of the officers undercover had been, by one of the men with a promise to help him get out of trouble. Then everything got out of hand and the threats started to come. A lot of people had been arrested but the core of the underground organization still flourished according to DI Shiner.

Sgt. Merton seemed involved in the case as well but to a lesser extent, although enough to know a lot more than Steve and the rest of the boys back at Ashfordly station and that included the travel company the DI had brought.

Steve had locked the handle on full throttle as he literally flew over the hills as the wheels danced over the dwindling road. It was a short cut but he doubted it would be fast enough. The tip had been so sudden and unexpected that the force was scattered over the area. DI Shiner and DC Lucas was in Strensford to talk with the local officer there, Ventress was venting ideas with Oscar Blaketon over a fag at the Aidensfield Arms, Bellamy was working together with DC Travis back at the station while Merton was on his way back from a meeting with Doctor Craven and would meet him at the location. It was the recently arrived DC Thomas that had relieved him of his duty guarding the bedridden Charlie Carter back at the hospital figuring that since Steve knew the area he wouldn't waste precious time trying to find the right place.

At the same time Sgt. Dennis Merton narrowed his eyes as he placed the binoculars in front of him, looking down at the tree effectively cutting the road to the train station. Jonathan Forbes had been reported leaving Liverpool just a few hours before he'd spotted him outside the castle the day before. Dennis guessed that Forbes, who'd been out of sight for several years, had resurfaced only to look for the money Jeremy Watson had brought with him to Aidensfield. The same money Charlie Carter had ripped off him when taking his life. The money having been taken from Carter in his turn while running into Greg Nichols.

Merton knew of 'the man' down in Liverpool, John Lowey, and his shady business. He had in fact been hunting him for a year when he was a DC stationed in Liverpool for another crime. A lot of people in high places in the organization had been brought in and charged over the years but John Lowey and his closest circle had always managed to escape the long arm of the law. Although now it seemed, with everything going on, that he was going down too.

Before Dennis had headed over to Doctor Craven he'd run into DI Shiner who was still at the hospital. The DI had showed him a folder he'd taken with him from Liverpool. They went through the casino organization, both lost in memories for a while. Then he'd pulled a photograph of Greg Nichols and everything fell in place. Nichols had never been convicted due to circumstantial evidence only but everyone in the CID knew he was working with John Lowey. It had now been confirmed by an inside man that Jeremy Watson had been approached by Nichols a few months back. Watson's closest colleagues confirmed that he had seemed short on money. Everything seemed to be tied together.

Now it seemed that Nichols was leaving North Riding to get back with the money to Liverpool. However, Merton had been around long enough to know that the internal fights in the organization was slowly destabilizing it and the only reason for Jonathan Forbes to be in the region suddenly seemed crystal clear. Forbes was to get rid of Nichols and bring the money back himself.

It had been Bertha, unbeknownst to all of this, who had raised the alarm as she claimed an unknown man was cutting down a tree over the road. After trying to calm her down and convince her it was the council that had ordered the cut she'd spilled his height and his looks – it was a perfect match to Forbes.

OOOOOO

Steve looked grim as he flew over the last hillock with his motorcycle, his first thought was that he was being too late. As he closed in on Forbes the man already had Nichols in sight. However, acting on the moment of surprise he threw himself off of the motorcycle and lunged at Forbes. The gun went off in the air as they tangled with each other, both desperately fighting to get the upper hand.

Greg Nichols was thrown as he saw the men take a tumble and swiftly pulled in the reverse, the tires screeching.

Forbes managed a glancing blow to the young officer in that instance, rendering him unconscious and oblivious to the world, before aiming and firing after the green car. Seeing as he missed he took off leaving Crane on the ground.

Merton cursed under his breath at the events unfolding before him. He hastily got out of his hiding place and started running to aid his constable when Steve waved weakly in the air to get his attention.

"I'll be fine! Crane shouted. "Go after him, sarge!"

Dennis quickly nodded and backtracked easily, to where the car had been hidden away from sight, and speeded away.

"Delta-Alpha-Two-One to control," he said into the mike as he cast a cautious look at the road crossing ahead of him. "Alf, are you there?"

" _Right, sarge, this is control receiving,"_ the old copper drawled over the channel.

"Listen, I need you to get a hold on Doctor Merrick, Steve has been injured. I can't say how bad it is," he ordered urgently.

Alf nodded at Phil who'd stopped what he was doing and now listened in to the call. "She's up at the goat farm," he let on. "I'll call."

Alf shook his head. "Go to Steve, take the Panda car and stomp on the accelerator," he suggested. "I know the number to the farm, I'll fix everything from this end."

"Control, are you there?" Merton asked.

" _Still here, sarge. I'll see to it. What is your position?"_ Alf asked curiously.

"The main road to the railway station. I'm giving chase to Nichols," he returned. Notify DI Shiner. He should already be on the train back from Strensford."

OOOOOO

Oscar Blaketon reached up with his hand to cover his nose discreetly as he walked onto the platform next to the train station. The railway delegation consisted of three people from the railway company. They were hardened men with profit and profit only on their agenda. Most of the small country stations cost more to maintain than to close down considering the rate of passengers where often low.

Oscar had a feeling that even the slightest complain or mark in the book at their visit would close down the station. However, Aidensfield was quite fond of its station and needed it for its survival. He supposed they could all go to the Ashfordly station but that would require taking a taxi or use some other sort of transportation to get there, means that some of the villagers didn't have.

Oscar was the Chairman of a local division of the council focusing on Aidensfield. The whole council was a group overseeing several of the villages nearby including Strensford and Pickering. They also had the power to put pressure on the larger Ashfordly committee as well in certain questions but as of this debacle with the railway station in Aidensfield they were on their own.

The station was impeccably taken care of and the railway master, Stevenson, had a good order of his books, keeping tabs of everything of importance. The only thing out of place seemed to be the smell and the two dirty looking men, namely Vernon Scripps and David Stockwell. Who were seated at a large flowerbed at the far end of the platform.

"That's all we need," Oscar muttered under his breath as he gently guided the railway delegation toward Stevenson's office.

"My goodness," Emile Nolan complained to Joyce Jowett as the delegation disappeared into the building housing the office. "See to it that those two clowns get away from here."

Jowett strode briskly toward the men, her stance rigid and tense like she was boiling with anger as she reached them. "I believe I told you before…" she began in a low clipped voice.

Vernon waved his hand lazily in the air. "There is no need for concern, Mrs. Jowett. The odor as you insist on calling it – although it's very natural I must say…"

"Scripps!" she admonished.

OOOOOO

Sgt. Dennis Merton literally had the accelerator floored, pushing the black Ford Anglia police car to the limit, as he tried to keep up with the much faster sports car ahead of him.

The Alfa Romeo easily speeded further away from the police car and, as it was, Merton had to guess several turns as of which turn Nichols had taken. He had guessed correctly when Nichols had tried to shake him off by running the smaller roads among the moors instead of taking the direct path to the train station.

After a while, Dennis had almost given up hope as the green sports car had disappeared from sight. Then as he turned over a hillock he spotted it just as it was being driven into a barn further down the road.

Wasting no time the sergeant quickly pulled up at the old abandoned barn and left the car to go around, hoping to catch the criminal.

An eerie silence spread over the area as he quietly jogged around the building and squeezed himself through an old unhinged door. Sunlight streamed through the wooden planks, creating enough light to see anyone inside but it also made him visible.

Merton crouched behind a stack of hay balls as the sound of a trunk being closed echoed through the barn. Nichols, thinking he was alone, grabbed the bag of money and headed for the entrance.

"Give it up, Nichols," Merton said sternly as he chose to walk out in the open just behind him.

The criminal whirled around in surprise at the voice and reached into the waistband of his trousers. Merton, having been in the business long enough, acted quickly realizing what was about to happen, he launched himself at the man before he could pull the gun out completely.

They took a tumble in the old hay covering the floor, both fighting to get the upper hand. It was an even struggle at first but Nichols had the advantage of being at least fifteen years younger. Dennis managed to slam the criminal's hand, in which he carried the gun, into a wooden crate causing him to let out a groan and then a hiss before the gun fell out of his grip. Merton rolled over and away from Nichols and got up on his knees opting to grab the gun but Nichols wouldn't have it. He launched himself at the police sergeant, effectively knocking him to the ground. The criminal then latched onto Merton's wrist with one hand and gripped the gun with the other one.

Just as the gun turned in his direction Dennis managed to kick out at Nichols, sending him down, but not before the tip of his index finger squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed through the empty barn despite the hay acting as a soundboard. However, the sound was lost to Merton because all he could focus on was the tremendous pain in his arm that seemed to assault his senses.

Nichols, uncertain as of what to do next considering the sergeant would be able to single him out to a jury, took a step away from Merton, securing the gun inside the waistband of his trousers. Then an expression of malice settled on his face and he retraced his steps but as he was about to do further harm to the police sergeant a car skidded to a halt outside. Nichols glanced toward the door anxiously, seeing the unmistakable painting of turquoise and white that marked the panda car, then quickly moved over to grab the bag of money and headed out through the unhinged door that Merton had come through earlier.

OOOOOO

Vernon Scripps looked over his shoulder as he saw Jowett walk out of the Railway Master's office, a look of contempt thrown their way before stomping off.

"Come on David," he urged.

His helper nodded with a satisfied smile on his face where he stood on his knees next to the large flowerbed. His hands and lower arms were covered in the mix they sold as fertilizer.

"I think this is it, Mr. Scripps," he said happily.

"Well, just get up and away from the flowerbed. Mr. Nolan is coming our way and he doesn't look happy at all. Jowett is up to something too. I don't want my taxi services being banned from this place – it's quite profitable," Vernon returned.

At the same time Bernie Scripps walked onto the platform dressed in smoking as the role of undertaker. It had been quite tricky to get a hold on Joshua Watson, the father of the deceased, but now he was finally arriving with the five o'clock train.

Blaketon chose that moment to head out of Stevenson's office with the delegation in tow.

"The forces are gathering," Vernon muttered under his breath as he put on a polite smile.

"What?" David asked as he got up and began to dust off the soil from his coveralls and hands.

"Never mind, David," Vernon chided.

As the delegation neared, led by Blaketon, their conversation filtered through the chatter of the people standing in wait for the train.

"And as you can see, gentlemen," Oscar said proudly. "The station has been impeccably cared for."

"Shouldn't we take the running solution with us back, Mr. Scripps?" David asked curiously as he grabbed the thin flask, accidentally putting a little too much pressure on it.

Vernon could only watch, as in slow motion, as the running solution of fertilizer streamed out of the flask and onto the last of the passing delegate's suit. He put up his hands to cover his mouth and nose, holding his breath as Blaketon fixed him with a glare.

"My sincerest apologies Mr. Parson," Blaketon said to the man who'd gotten a rather red shade on his face. "I'll see to it that these two clowns never set their foot here again. It's hard to get good people to do the job nowadays."

"David," Vernon whispered as the delegation turned in the other direction.

"Please, Vernon," Bernie said gloomily as he walked up to his half-brother. "I told you not to make a fool of yourself."

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Love your reviews ;) Thank you for taking time to post them!_


	15. A Train to Catch

**Chapter Fifteen – A Train to Catch**

Jenny Merton had only driven a car as fast as she was now when she'd been forced too by the terminally ill man who had taken her hostage over a year ago. The Rover came to a screeching halt next to the General Hospital in Ashfordly and she jumped out of the vehicle, not caring about where she left it. She ran the small distance to the entrance and headed for the casualty section. Hundreds of dreadful and gloomy thoughts whirled in her mind as she half-walked, half-ran through the seemingly endless corridors, her heels clicking rapidly on the floor tiles.

"Jenny!" A familiar voice called out from behind her, causing her to come to an abrupt halt and turn around to see Steve Crane walk out from an adjoining corridor.

He made his way toward her and, as she stood there, seeing the serious look on his face, her hands began to shake.

"Steve," she finally managed as he came to stand opposite her. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

"He's been shot, caught in the arm," he explained. Seeing the terrified look on her face he hastily added; "Don't worry, Jenny. Sarge will be fine."

She chuckled nervously at the statement, feeling her legs turn into jelly.

Steve gently reached out to steady her. "Are you all right?" He asked softly, in a caring voice.

"Yes, I'm sorry," she apologized, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

"Come on, I'll take you to him. However, I don't think he'll get out of here today," Steve cautioned.

Jenny nodded and then turned to look at the young constable. "Are _you_ all right?" She asked.

Steve nodded reassuringly. "I'm fine, there's no need to worry about me," he said confidently.

She crinkled her nose as a faint upward curl played on her lips. "Are you sure? Because that vivid bruise above your left eye looks painful," she said softly.

The constable returned the smile. "I have a hard head," he replied as he nodded toward a doctor clad in a white coat when they walked into the casualty section.

"Doctor Smith," PC Crane said, seeking the man's attention.

The doctor nodded and walked up to them.

"This is Jenny Merton, Sergeant Merton's wife," Steve introduced.

The doctor, in his mid-fifties, smiled politely at her. "I recognize you from somewhere," he said kindly.

"I work with Doctor Merrick in Aidensfield; I'm a pharmacist," she explained politely, wanting nothing else than to see her husband. "Where is Dennis?" She asked, feeling a bit anxious.

"Your husband is through here," he said and gestured toward a room further down the corridor. "He's to be transferred upstairs, on the ward."

"Is he all right?" Jenny asked worriedly.

"We had to remove the bullet from his arm surgically, he's lost a lot of blood and the shock is still affecting his body. That's why I want to keep him in for observation," the doctor explained seriously as they entered the room.

Jenny nodded as the doctor finished explaining and gently pulled the curtain, dividing the two beds in the room, aside to reveal the Scottish sergeant.

"Dennis," Jenny whispered as she took in his pale features and dull eyes. She quickly closed the distance to his bedside and sat down next to him.

A ghost of a smile danced on his lips as she carefully sat down on his bedside. "Hey," he whispered.

Steve and the doctor chose that moment to walk away, leaving them alone.

Jenny reached out to touch his forehead, her worry rising as she felt his clammy skin under the palm of her hand. "You're burning up," she said concerned.

Dennis couldn't help but to chuckle. "You're the worst mother hen I know," he said lightly, trying to diffuse the somber mood. However, his voice sounded weak even in his own ears.

"Are you trying to frighten me to death?" Jenny admonished.

"Sorry, I didn't really plan for this to happen," he answered neutrally, careful not to let his frustration and pain seep through in his voice.

"The doctor says you're going to be all right," the young pharmacist said, more to reassure herself than anyone else. "Thank heavens," she added.

"With a little luck I will be out of here tomorrow," Dennis said.

"I doubt that," Jenny said seriously as she gently took his hand into hers, mindful of the IV in his arm. "Dennis, please, please don't scare me like that again," she said seriously.

"I'll try," he whispered tiredly, his eyes involuntarily closing.

Jenny smiled as she looked down at him. He would not come home tomorrow, he wasn't up to that, but at least he was alive and resting safely in a hospital bed and that was enough for now.

OOOOOO

"Gina," Liz said in confusion as she stepped through the door to the Aidensfield Practice. She had expected it to be Jenny greeting her as the pharmacist had left the farm earlier to man the practice.

The barmaid looked up from the newspaper she was studying, where she stood behind the counter. "Hi, Liz," Gina replied. "I'm glad you came back. Jenny said she didn't know when you would return and, frankly, I didn't get much sense out of her."

Liz frowned, thankful the last of her daily patients had been taken care of earlier. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"Dennis has been shot," Gina replied bluntly.

"Shot?" The young doctor echoed as a million questions popped up in her brain.

Before Gina could explain further the door opened again, revealing a smiling Ben Norton. However, seeing the look on Liz' face he instantly sobered up.

Doctor Merrick whirled around, barely acknowledging him before turning back to her friend again. "What…" she began.

"He's going to be fine. Jenny is with him now. That's why I'm here," Gina explained. "However, since you're back, I'd much rather stand behind a more familiar counter."

"What's going on?" Ben asked.

"Sergeant Merton has been shot," Gina explained. "Caught in the arm apparently, according to Phil."

"People are scared as it is around here. Without anyone trying to kill the police," Liz said angrily.

"Do they know who it was?" Ben asked curiously. "Do they know how it happened?"

Gina shrugged, not able to answer.

"All right," Liz said. "I'll lock up here and head over to the hospital."

"I'll come with you," Ben said without hesitation.

"Thanks, Gina. You're a life savior," Liz said with a smile as she turned to the barmaid.

"Don't mention it. Perhaps if things go south and both Oscar and I find ourselves incapable of serving beer you might step in?" She said with a smirk.

"If that's the case I might help better by practicing in my own field," Liz returned cunningly.

"That's what I was afraid off," Gina let on. "Anyway, say hello to them for me."

"Wait a minute," Liz said as if suddenly remembering something. "Isn't Oscar at the railway station?"

"Yeah, thank heavens for Phil's grandmother," Gina let on cunningly. "I think she enjoys standing behind the counter."

OOOOOO

"Steve, are you sure you're okay?" Phil asked carefully as he studied his pale colleague.

The slightly younger officer waved his concern away. "Like I said to Jenny. I have a hard head," he replied with a faint smile. "The motorcycle is worse for wear though as it glided to a stop against a rather large boulder when I jumped off of it."

"Bernie will have that taken care of in a few hours," Phil assured him. "Might be just as well because you're in no shape to ride it anyway under the circumstances."

Steve frowned at him.

"Anyway, let's drive you home and tuck you in. I think you've had enough excitement for one day," Phil added kindly.

"You sound like I'm a little child…" he whined then caught himself as he remembered that children were still a delicate matter for his colleague.

"Fine then," Phil said, his voice colder yet not uncaring. "A lift to the station then? To try and sort out this mess?"

"To the station it is then but not to the police station," Steve said.

Bellamy shook his head. "You know, I think you hit that head of yours pretty hard this time," he said.

OOOOOO

Liz worriedly glanced around the waiting hall at the General Hospital unable to spot her blonde friend. She moved on with Ben on her tail toward the casualty section. Making inquiries with some of the doctors she cooperated with during her days at the hospital she was finally directed toward a ward in the West Wing.

There, on a bench in the empty hallway, sat Jenny Merton. She was leaning forward with her elbows on her thighs and her head had come to rest in her cupped hands, fingers spread wide over her face.

"Jenny," Liz said gently as she quickly closed the distance and sat down next to her.

The pharmacist straightened and let her hands drop down to her lap. "He's all right, Liz. At least he will be. It's just me, silly me," she chided herself.

Liz gently put a comforting arm around Jenny's shoulder. "I would say it's a natural reaction considering that your husband is admitted after being shot," she said quietly.

"Liz," Jenny said in a shaky voice as she looked at her friend. "I was so afraid."

The doctor took her into her arms, the pharmacist leaning into her. "I know, Jenny, I know," she whispered and then switched subject hoping to steer her friend away from the dark thoughts of losing her husband.

"Look, everything is well at the farm. I've just talked to my friend down in London and according to him Jack is really making an effort. He'll be back the day after tomorrow. Of course he'll have to go back a few times to London as a follow up but isn't it wonderful news?"

Jenny nodded, a soft sob escaping her lips. "That's great, Liz," she managed.

"Why don't I go and find Dennis' attending physician and have a word?" Liz suggested softly. "Then Ben and I will drive you home. You're exhausted and need some rest."

OOOOOO

Jonathan Forbes cursed under his breath as he neared the train station in the outskirt of the Aidensfield village. The platform seemed very lively for just a village station. Sometimes it amazed him that little sleepy villages with a few cottages scattered around the moors could have their own train station.

Forbes contemplated on heading back, to retrace his steps down to Strensford or go further ahead up to Ashfordly but then decided against it. The police knew of his presence in the area, the faster he got out of the North Riding District and Yorkshire the better. Then, since he knew fairly well how Nichols worked, Forbes guessed that he would be lingering in the shadows of the little station ahead already. After all, he did need to catch up with the man to relieve him of the moneybag.

According to his profile stashed on the CID HQ Jonathan Forbes had always been a cunning, rash and bold criminal. That's how he was and how he worked. Therefore he had the guts to park the yellow sedan that he was driving right outside the gate to the railway station in the specified parking lot for taxi service. He carefully strode out of the vehicle and whistled faintly on a melody of the Beatles, appearing carefree. Unbeknownst of the officer watching him.

"I don't believe that guy," Steve said as he narrowed his eyes, the headache making stars dance across his field of vision, and glanced through the magnifying lenses of the binoculars.

"Let me see," Phil urged curiously, barely giving Steve time to get the sling of the binoculars away from his neck.

"I'll give the police station a call," – he glanced at his wristwatch – "Should be right about time for tea."

"You're mean Steve. I'm sure Alf's been looking forward to that half the day," Phil replied with an upward curl to his lips.

OOOOOO

"How's it coming?" Joyce Jowett whispered behind the back of the last delegate as she walked up to Blaketon, having stepped aside to let Emile Nolan do the talking for a while.

Oscar looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think they're impressed with the order Master Stevenson has kept and the income of gods through here. Also, words from the grocery store and post office down in the village complimenting the railway is turning it in our favour," he said.

"What about the ticket sales and the traffic on and off the station?" Joyce asked.

"Statistically it's a little dark when it comes to those numbers," he admitted. "But, I think it was a good call to urge as many of the villagers here to take a train ride today."

"Perhaps we should thank the ornithologists too for gathering in the area due the annual meetings," she let on sarcastically as she spotted a skinny man dressed in tweed, littered with special equipment, hoping to spot a rare bird of some sort.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Thank you for commenting on the last chapter ;) So sorry for the delay in updating but the site wouldn't let me log in._


	16. Something He Said

**Chapter Sixteen – Something He Said**

Greg Nichols felt stuffed as he walked onto the platform having ditched the bag and decided to have all the money stashed in the suit. Unlike his unfriendly colleague, Jonathan Forbes, he had the advantage of being anonymous in the eyes of the local police. Still he felt uncomfortable among the crowd waiting for the train to arrive.

He had no doubt that Forbes would be there somewhere but he doubted the man would try anything among the villagers and passengers. That was one of the main reasons as to why he kept himself close to a large theatre company that chattered happily amongst themselves.

Nichols stiffened as he saw two police constables walk onto the platform but forced himself to calm down. This was nor the time or the place to blow any cover.

OOOOOO

"I must say Mr. Blaketon, Mr. Nolan and of course Mrs. Jowett, that I'm impressed as of what I have seen here today," one of the delegates said as he lit a cigar.

"Thank you, sir," Oscar replied.

"As to answer your underlying question, which is in fact the only reason why we're here in such small community," the man drawled as he puffed on his cigar. "The numbers are not overly positive but on a market like this they meet the demands. Therefore I'm pleased to give you a preliminary status report which will most likely stand when the board has read through it. The Aidensfield Station will be open for business until further notice."

Uncommonly for the three present members of the council they shared a satisfied smile.

Oscar Blaketon was particularly pleased that he didn't address his lordship about lending his land to a charity event so soon after the murder and attempted murder as the whistle of the train echoed close by.

"Here she comes," Nolan said with a plastered smile as he turned to the trio from the railway. "Please come and visit us again some time."

OOOOOO

Greg Nichols plopped down on the bench in an empty coupe and let out a relieved breath. However, his relief was short lived as the door flew open, causing him to jump.

"So," Forbes said in a low and dangerous voice. "You thought there was an escape route for you here?"

"How," Nichols managed in surprise.

"Now, now, Nichols. I'm not some silly little boy used to take orders. I act in my own interest and right now my only interest is the money I know you're carrying with you," he said.

"What money?" Nichols asked, appearing dumbfounded.

A faint sad smile crept over Forbes' lips as he went to stand opposite the other man. In one swift movement he had Nichols up against the wall, his arm effectively cutting off the other man's air supply.

"Don't give me that crap, Nichols," he chided. "First it was Carter deciding to jump ship and do a little solo dance and then you came along to finish him off. But what you didn't know was that Lowey didn't trust you enough to correct Carter's mistake. You're a black sheep, Nichols, there's no place for you amongst the rest."

"That's your words, your version, Forbes," Nichols panted, struggling for breath. "I trust no one but Lowey himself. Never held you high enough…"

Forbes cut off his mockery as he increased his pressure on the other man's windpipe, angered by the statement.

"Right," a third, sharp, voice broke through their concentration. "I think we've heard enough."

Forbes was cold and calculative as he threw Nichols at the two CID officers standing in the doorway but there was no place for him to go and within seconds he was cuffed and read the rights.

"So," DI Shiner said, looking awfully smug. "I believe you two gentlemen will have a long and nice stay at the prison. And this time I think Lowey will follow you."

DC Thomas, the other arresting officer, nodded at Crane and Bellamy who stood just outside the slightly open window, on the platform. "Good call. You overheard everything?" He asked.

"Every word of it," Bellamy assured him.

OOOOOO

When he woke up the third time it was bright and sunny outside the hospital windows. Dennis Merton groaned as he shifted slightly in bed and gritted his teeth as pain, and annoyance at his own predicament, created a gloom over him.

Despite all the years in the police force; the CID branch and as a uniformed officer in the early years up in Scotland, he'd never really had any accidents or close calls. Sure he'd gotten into scrapes a few times but it had never been something like this.

Unsurprisingly he'd been thinking about nothing else for the last twenty-four-hours. Colleagues had told him that brushes with what could have been death had changed them but he'd never really listened, never really believed them. Now he was ready to do just that. Suddenly some things seemed so small, so unnecessarily to deal with.

Dennis had never appreciated what he'd had, or at least he'd never thought much about it, except for his career. Now his life contained so much more. It was so rich in ways he couldn't even dream about a couple of years before. For example he had a warm and caring wife.

Jenny had been with him as much as she could, not letting him out of sight when she was visiting.

Listening to her it sounded like she expected him to die any minute, her concern for him was touchable yet so misguided in a sense. He'd only been shoot in the arm for heaven's sake. But then again, for a while he'd been sure he was dying back there in the barn. Ironically his life could very well have ended back there because the gun in Nichols' hand had wavered. Maybe it was just pure luck that Nichols hadn't hit anything else while pulling the trigger. Maybe Jenny had every right to be concerned about him. Dennis kept thinking about it, unable to stop.

At one time Liz had visited briefly, asking how he was doing. She'd told him he was lucky and he'd replied that he didn't feel lucky.

The curly haired doctor had chuckled at him and placed a hand on his shoulder to give it a comforting squeeze. According to her he was doing better but there would be some time before he was back on his feet and then some before he could return to duty. He'd lost a fair amount of blood and his ribs had received quite a bruising due to the fight he'd been involved in.

Soberly Dennis had quietly told her that the gun had been wavering before it went off and that it could have ended much worse. He also admitted that he should have handled everything differently if he'd had another chance. Then he'd begged Liz not to mention any of that to Jenny since he didn't want to worry her further. He reasoned that what happened was history now and that there was no point in dwelling on it. The doctor had silently agreed and left him to rest.

The conversation with the doctor had occurred almost eight hours ago, late at night when Jenny had finally gone home to rest. He'd slept badly through the night afterwards and he ached all over the place. Doctor Smith, his physician at the hospital, had told him it was common to feel weak and tired during the first week of the recovery. Since he'd lost so much blood he could also be experiencing nausea. On his own account he felt that the bruising on his chest would no doubt bother him for some time as he found out that taking deep breaths sent a burning fire down his side. He gasped as he tried to rise his upper body into a more siting position on the hospital bed and gingerly eased himself down again.

"Dennis," a sharp voice acknowledged by way of greeting.

Merton's eyes quickly settled on the sturdy, short man walking into his private hospital room. "DI Shiner," he said.

"I just thought you should know that both Forbes and Nichols have been arrested, courtesy of a good cooperation between CID and the North Riding Constabulary – more precisely Ashfordly Police Station," he let on with a curt nod.

Dennis nodded back with a faint smile but he said nothing, instead it was the DI who continued.

"John Lowey was arrested and brought into custody yesterday evening. The Liverpool police and our local CID department there is confident he will spend time inside for a long time. Charlie Carter will be moved down to the General Hospital in Liverpool where his victim ironically worked."

"I'm glad to hear everything will work out then," Dennis said.

Shiner nodded where he stood, just inside the door, and then walked across the room to sit down next to the sergeant in the visitor's chair.

He looked thoughtful for a while. "It's a shame you left CID, Dennis," Shiner said suddenly. "I can partly understand why you did what you did. But afterwards - thinking it through - wouldn't it have been better to bring in another senior officer and explain it all to him?"

Dennis pursed his lips into a thin line of displeasure, suddenly looking awkward and regretful. "It was a moment –" He trailed off, glancing down at his hands. "I can't take it back. What is done is done."

Shiner nodded. "If you hadn't punched that superior officer of yours, Merton, you would have gotten fine recommendations and earned yourself the rank of detective sergeant rapidly. Frankly, the man you brought in was a very heavy criminal with wide connections and would have proven an embarrassment to the force should he not have been caught."

Dennis raised his head and leveled his eyes with the high ranking CID officer. "Is there a point in you telling me this after several years, sir?" He asked curiously yet his voice sounded weak and tired.

"There's an opening. You would be back as a DC at first but it wouldn't take long for you to claim the rank you should have been given before the incident," Shiner let on. "I would be putting in a good word for you."

A cautious grin appeared on his pale face and he didn't know if he should laugh out loud or cry at the statement but the man sitting next to him was so deadly serious that neither of it would be recommended.

"I appreciate your efforts, sir. I really do," he said thoughtfully, his grin disappearing and he turned serious. "However, that's all in the past. Had you asked me earlier I would have jumped at the opportunity you're giving me but I've grown accustomed to this place and I've got a wife here. For the first time in my life I think I've been able to balance the life as a police officer with a private life and I'm happy as it is.

Shiner nodded.

"I'm not taking your offer lightly, Martin," he said, daring to use the superior officer's forename. "I never thought I would say this, and I can't believe I'm actually saying it now, but punching that officer might have been a lucky strike for me."

Shiner huffed. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head, Dennis," he said sternly but it was with a twinkle in his eyes. "Because I can't believe I'm hearing it."

They looked at each other for a moment and came to a silent agreement. Shiner did understand him and secretly wished his wife had been more understanding to his work than she'd been when they were still married. He did recall married life even though it was a long time ago and the more time that past the more he longed for it.

Shiner rose slowly from the chair and nodded at Merton. "The offer will not come back, Dennis, but I understand your reasoning," he said as he saw Jenny Merton coming toward them with a large bouquet of flowers resting in her hand. Take care now, Sergeant Merton."

"You too, sir," he said.

"Mrs. Merton," Shiner acknowledged politely as he walked out of the room.

"DI Shiner," Jenny returned as she watched him leave and then walked over to her husband to sit next to him on the bed, placing the flowers in a vase on the table nearby.

She gently placed a soft peck on his cheek and took his hand in hers. "You look awfully pleased," she said jovially.

"Something he said," Dennis let on cryptically.

OOOOOO

16/18

To be continued

 _/Thank you for your feedback ;) The story will soon come to an end._


	17. Coming Back Home

**Chapter Seventeen – Coming Back Home**

"I deeply object to the smell that comes with it, Scripps," Lord Ashfordly said sternly before breaking into a thin and satisfied smile. "But at the moment it's worth it because even the campers, soul seekers or whatever they call themselves, can't stand it."

Vernon clasped his hands together and returned the smile with a wide grin. "Just give it a couple of days, my lordship and…" he looked up at the rain clouds. "…A few drops of rain and it will be gone. The smell, I mean."

Ashfordly nodded, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Well, I suppose it came to good use at last, your product - but don't expect any payment for it," he said.

The cheeriness Scripps had felt a moment ago was suddenly gone and replaced by confusion. "I'm afraid you've lost me there my lordship," he returned with uncertainty.

"Well, the council ordered you to get rid of it or you'd be charged with a fee given the heavy smell it caused while being hauled up at your brother's garage. Then there was Angelica Nolan's fishpond and, oh my, I believe a bill for washing a costume jacket clean of spillage. I was kind enough to let you dispose of it on my land without charge – saving you a lot of trouble," he reasoned.

Vernon opened his mouth to protest but closed it again as he realized there was nothing he could say that would change Lord Ashfordly's mind.

"I see it as a win-win situation," the lordship added with a smile before turning around to begin the walk back up to the Hall, leaving Scripps alone at the outskirt of the Ashfordly Estate with an undignified look on his face.

OOOOOO

Jack Lane felt like a new man as he stepped into the house back at the goat farm, truth to be told maybe he was? He couldn't help but smile at the clean house and flowers on the kitchen table. It hadn't looked this neat since his fiancée walked out on him a couple of months after he'd gotten back from his military service and that was a very long time ago.

He had a sneaky suspicion that the cunning little doctor had emptied his reserves of liquor, beer, whiskey and ale so he took a stroll through the rooms and everywhere he looked the cabinets and lockers was filled with various other things. Merrick had gotten to all his stashes and he found himself suddenly very grateful for it.

Clad in an elegant dark blue suit, completed by a very light blue shirt that accented his pale blue eyes and a new haircut along with the loss of his former beard made him look very handsome.

Liz had been kind enough to send him some money made from the selling of the wool while he was away and her posh medical friend hadn't hesitated to take him on a shopping spree. To his utter surprise he had actually enjoyed it.

It was almost with a pang of regret he realized that he was about to hang up the suit and trade it for a blue coverall once again and walk out in the harsh moor fields to shepherd his sheep. Then again he would do it for Jeremy but he would take one day at a time.

There was a knock on the door and the usually so well clad young doctor walked into the house dressed in rubber boots and a beige coverall, her outfit completed by a wrap around her curly hair.

Jack couldn't help but chuckle lightly at her appearance.

Her eyes sparkled as her hands reached her hips, she tried hard to look offended by his reaction but found that she couldn't and broke into a wide grin instead.

Ben Norton walked through the door only minutes later and shook his head. "Well, if I didn't know better I'd say I'd be worried. On the borderline to jealous," he said with a smirk, his voice light and slightly teasing.

"By all means, Ben," Liz said, deciding to play along. "You're lucky I laid my eyes on you first."

"From the brief updates I've got I take it everything's been going well?" Jack asked curiously.

"Yes," Liz began, looking smug, and was interrupted by Ben.

"You better watch out for her if she decides to take up the business," he cautioned. "She's been working with your image, brought in some extra hands, argued stubbornly with some of the, shall we say, narrow-minded people in the vicinity."

"I've had a lot of help," Liz explained looking rather pleased with herself. "I hope I haven't offended you in any way by doing so?"

Jack shook his head lightly. "We'll go through everything together when you can spare the time," he reasoned.

"I seriously consider hiring her as an extra hand up at the Hall," Ben let on cheekily.

Liz huffed. "You might just need that," she returned. "But I don't work alone – I need Jenny with me and I'm expensive."

"Now," Ben began innocently. "Where was I? Right, before all this I was bringing in Jack's mail and the books concerning the sheep shearing. Now, I've updated everything and kept it neat. Got you a mall from the Hall's business plan that you can follow if you wish to simplify things."

"Thanks. I really appreciate what you've all been doing," Jack said sincerely.

"We're just glad we could help out," Ben reassured him as he patted his shoulder lightly. "I'll head back outside. See you later."

Jack nodded as he watched Lord Ashfordly's right hand man walk out through his door.

Liz walked up to the sink and filled the kettle. "I heard that you took a detour to Liverpool to talk to Jeremy's colleagues and friends," she said softly. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Jack shook his head. "Not really," he returned gloomily. "But I owe you."

The doctor nodded as she put the kettle on the stove and walked over to the kitchen table and sat down next to him.

"First of all I met my brother, Joshua, down in London. I haven't seen him in years and it took some time to reacquaint. Joshua has changed, I guess I have too. He's living a different life now, a secure and happy life that suits him. We ended on good terms and I guess Mr. Scripps has already told you that he's coming here for the funeral?" He asked. "In fact, I'm certain he should have arrived here even before I did."

Liz nodded. "I'm sorry that tragedy would be what brought you together again," she said.

Jack sighed, this topic was hard for him but he forced himself to open up.

Liz hastily got up as the whistle blared and poured two cups of tea.

He watched her stove away the kettle and tidy up the sink before coming back to sit next to him.

"When I arrived to Liverpool it took me some time to find the General Hospital and while there it took me even more time to locate anyone that knew of my nephew, not only by rumours," Jack explained.

"You see, Liz, Jeremy was a good guy and he always worked so hard to get what he wanted. But he got a taste of another life down in the city that he'd never come across up here. His father, Joshua, has always been a gambler, a risk-taker, if you so wish. Therefore, he sought out the casino and started gambling a little just for fun," he said sadly.

Liz waited for him to continue but she didn't push him.

"His former colleagues told me he was a good junior doctor and a promising surgeon. Then it's a little unclear what happened but as of what I can gather there was some kind of disagreement in theatre and Jeremy ended up on the wrong foot with the head of surgery. A patient in theatre died and it was blamed on Jeremy who was later excluded from his internship."

This caused Liz to frown and she made a mental note to check further into it using her contacts down there.

"I don't know. I guess that was the final nail in the coffin so to speak. That's what finally broke my nephew," Jack reasoned. "He started drinking and doubled up on gaming, most of the friends that he had seemed to abandon him to his fate as he refused to let them in. Apparently he had debts to some shady figure…"

"I know it's a small comfort for you, Jack, but I'm so sorry," Liz apologized.

Jack nodded as he absentmindedly started picking up and sort out his mail. He froze as he stared down one particular white envelope carrying his name. "Jeremy," he whispered as he ripped the envelope in two and retrieved the letter.

"Jack?" Liz asked carefully.

"When did this come?" He demanded, slightly shocked. "It's from Jeremy."

"I think Ben picked up a small bag with mail from Gladys at the post office only yesterday," she replied.

With shaky fingers he began to read and as he did so he was unable to keep the tears from spilling onto his cheeks. It was like a flood of emotions swept over the edges of a river.

" _Dear Uncle Jack._

 _I know it's been ages since we last saw each other but I can't help but feel the need to talk to you. Faith is denying me a chance to prove to you and dad that I can become someone to be proud of. In a moment of weakness I remembered the bottle you always seemed to carry with you and the look of pure happiness my father had on his face when he came home late at night with a few extra shillings after a night at the new casino bar in Ashfordly._

 _Before I knew it I had debts that I couldn't pay and no job to go to. No friends to borrow from. I was approached by a man called Mr. Carter who offered to help me out should I give a large amount of my future income to him as a fee. I don't know how the casino business runs exactly but I can tell I'm in deep trouble._

 _Then, heavy intoxicated and cocky, to the borderline of stupid, I went to the casino the other night. I won back the money that I owed and then some. To say that I was surprised is an understatement. It felt as if faith had changed its mind and given me a second chance. Hastily I paid back what I was pegged for and packed my bags. I've had enough of Liverpool. I wanted to go back, Uncle Jack. Back to a time when I was happier. At least back to a time when there was still hope for me to become a doctor._

 _I'm coming home Uncle Jack and I'm taking my savings with me, maybe together we can make the farm flourish? As of Mr. Carter, he can see himself after the money I supposedly owe him somewhere else. He never helped me, I helped myself."_

 _Anyway, I'm sure that I'll stand on your doorstep before this arrives. I hope my coming back will not trouble you._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Jeremy."_

Liz Merrick gently squeezed Jack's shoulder, unable to prevent a tear escaping her own eye. They sat in silence for a while before Liz swallowed, her throat feeling dry despite the tea.

"Jack, we better show this for the police. I know you're not too fond of them but Mr. Carter was the man following Jeremy here. He was the one –" She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"I think it's time I settle my disagreements with the police," he reasoned as he dried his tears.

"I'll phone PC Crane straight away," Liz offered. "A lot of things has happened here too while you've been away, Jack."

OOOOOO

17/18

To be continued

 _/Thank you for the reviews ;) You're the best. If you see any strange words – or maybe not even words, my apologies. I have a cat that just loves to help out._


	18. No Time Like the Present

**Chapter Eighteen – No Time Like the Present**

 **/One week later/**

It was a sad yet beautiful moment that he would remember for a long time to come. Bernie Scripps hadn't always been the Aidensfield mechanic and undertaker but he'd attended a lot of funerals to realize that this was something more. The young practicing doctor who originated from a farm just outside the village was being put to rest on a slightly inclined hill at the back of the churchyard. There was an ocean of flowers sitting on top of the polished bright white coffin with silver handles. It was a stark contrast to all the people surrounding it, all dressed in black. The sun was shining, its rays warming, welcoming even, after the rain that had fallen the night before.

The murder case had held the whole village in fear and no one was happier once the case had been resolved. Unfortunately Jeremy Watson was still deceased and the grief it caused his immediate family members was still prominent. However, on this day it felt like the whole village was mourning one of their own. Many villagers had come to the funeral to show their respect and to offer a silent apology by their presence to his father and uncle.

Joshua Watson was silent, all dressed up in the finest suit he could find and had arrived as fast as he could when the news had reached him down in the London suburban, where he had relocated and slowly started to build up his life once again. He had always missed his little boy and been proud of him when he got the news that Jeremy had made it to medical school and started an internship down in Liverpool. He had wanted to call him, take up on his acquaintance but he had hesitated, thinking Jeremy wanted nothing to do with him and had let it be – now it was too late.

Jack Lane wiped his red rimmed eyes dry – for grown men didn't cry, that's what the army had taught him, and stared at the white coffin in the glinting sun. So much had happened, so much damage, that he had a hard time to forgive and forget, even after the doctor' help, but today he would try and do just that. Had Jeremy been with them and not being laid to rest he would have told him life is too short to bear any grudges. A cautious smile crept upon his lips as he spotted both Joyce Jowett and Angelica Nolan among the crowd. Lord Ashfordly nodded at him from a slight distance as he too had come to pay his respect.

Jack had a long way to go and needed a lot of help from friends and neighbors to get his place back to its former glory but this time he chose to look at the bright side. Doctor Liz Merrick's friend down in London, an expert in psychiatry and also a mentor when it came to AA had been there for him and he'd already made excellent progress. He had a lot of things to work through and as a man of the army he'd considered those therapists and psychiatrics a little weird, doing no good. He was doing this for Jeremy and for his brother Joshua. Seeing that Joshua had managed to turn his life around and live with a wonderful woman now made him hopeful that one day he could do the same. As for his farm the village council had helped him with some of the costs for the renovation of the place courtesy of Doctor Merrick's stubbornness.

New goats where on their way and everything seemed to be clearing up. Jack felt light-headed just thinking about how everyone that had turned their backs on him and his relatives so long ago had come around and decided to help him instead and all because of the new influences through the village, the doctor's help, Ashfordly's right hand man, the police and Oscar Blaketon. It was just a shame that the man that had set the ball rolling was to be buried before his eyes this very moment.

The priest nodded at him and his brother as he stepped up next to the coffin to begin his speech.

A warm feeling spread through Jack's body when he glanced around a second time, taking in all the people that had gathered today and more importantly his long lost family consisting of his brother and Jeremy's three brothers and two sisters.

As the father began his speech Gina and Phil locked hands with each other. Gina tilted her head upwards and to her right to look Phil in the eye. He looked sad but as his blue eyes met hers a smile began to play on his lips. It was a cautious smile but it was a gesture that told Gina that they were on their way to maybe not fix their broken relationship but to repair it so that they could enjoy each other's company again as good friends.

As they stood there with hands intertwined they both remembered the despair caused by losing Daniel. The plummeted mood and the abyss that seemed to have swallowed them whole at the time was slowly fading away, releasing them from its grip. Gina could still remember how it felt to hold the little baby in her arms, to rock him back and forth in her arms, Phil's glowing eyes as he looked at their child. They had felt like a unit back at the hospital that was strong enough to take on the whole world. It was amazing that such a small guy could cause so much joy and yet so much sorrow to them despite his short time spent with them.

Gina began to understand the grief that the Watson's had endured while living outside the village and when she glanced sideway to Joshua and Jack she came to realize how strong they both were. Joshua had lost his wife and all his children and Jack had never discovered how loving life could be.

It was by looking at them she also realized that life wasn't over because you lost your child and that life goes on whether with or without you. She and Phil had to move on, had to deal with their emotions in a way that didn't break them and, here on the churchyard, in the glittering sun, they had come a long way.

On the opposite side of the congregation from Phil and Gina stood a blonde woman all dressed in black with a beautiful black hat complimenting her attire. Her arm snaked around the arm of a taller well-dressed man, also in black, although his attire not civilian but of the law force. His other arm was tightly secured to his chest, fixed there by a medical strap. Jenny squeezed Dennis' hand softly as she turned her head discreetly toward him. He mirrored her move and they shared a comforting, soft yet tight, smile as the father finished his speech.

Jenny had picked up Dennis from the hospital only three days prior and he was still pale and tired although he didn't like to admit anything that could be considered a weakness. Jenny was reminded of his accident every time she looked at him and it unsettled her just to think about how he could easily have lost his life. He was her soul mate and she would be lost without him. During the first few days when she'd been alone back home she'd cried herself to sleep when she'd finally convinced Liz and Ben to go home. She'd awakened in the middle of the night in confusion at the emptiness on the other side of the bed before she remembered why Dennis wasn't there.

Every time she'd taken the Rover to the hospital she'd fought the urge to cry and she'd admonished herself for being so silly. Liz had assured her, and Doctor Smith as well, that her husband would be fine given a little downtime. She was being the worst mother hen in the world, Dennis had told her so, although with an appreciative smile, and Liz had teased her about it. However, she just couldn't help it. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined a call from the police station telling her to go to the hospital because her husband had been shot in the line of duty. She had her fears of him being in danger but Dennis had usually pointed out that she was being silly when she'd voiced that to him and told her that he was mostly behind his desk or in the interrogation room.

Frustration had been running high at first after Dennis had come home and she'd caught him stepping out of the house ready to call for a taxi that would take him to the Police Station. After a long and hard argument she'd un-expectantly won and he'd walked into the house again. He settled for talking on the phone with PC Crane but he wasn't happy about it. In an effort to cheer him up she'd invited Liz and Ben to share a meal with them and had ended up admonishing all three of them for discussion the latest events.

Then the day before the funeral Jenny's presence was requested by Liz at the practice as she was to set out for house calls. Jenny had tried to get out of it but Dennis had insisted that she'd help out considering Liz was her best friend and colleague. After all she couldn't see to him all the time and she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried, keep him from harm's way while at work. Dennis was a police sergeant and she'd very well known it entering their relationship.

This morning she'd felt a little guilty for always nagging at him being late home or working late, arguing with him. She'd placed herself first not considering his situation and his other obligations. She'd taken him partly for granted, it was clear to her now. Thanks to the tragedy avoided, if something good could come out of being shot, they'd actually begin to see each other in a new light. They still had their arguments, they would always have them, but they managed to do more together and enjoy it more than before. Of course it was easier to do things together while Dennis was cooped up at home, not yet cleared for even light duty but she had always liked a challenge. When things returned to normal she would drag him out of his office if necessary and instead of being overly frustrated and angry at him for taking his job so seriously she would remember this time. Because it could have been worse – she could have lost him altogether – and she knew that had that become reality it would have dragged her down, made her unrecognizable to the rest of them, caused a hole in her heart that couldn't be replaced and it would have killed her.

"If you squeeze any harder I'll lose any feeling I have left in that hand," Dennis said softly, gently breaking through her reverie.

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "I was thinking."

He let out a sigh as he turned toward her, the priest having ended his speech and was now shaking hands with the closest family. "No happy thoughts I gather?" He asked cautiously.

She couldn't look up at him to face him.

"Jenny, please," Dennis began softly as he gently squeezed her hand. "Come on, we've talked about this so many times. You can't protect me from everything, you can't check up on me all the time, I'm not made of glass you know?" He finished with a twinkle in his eyes.

Jenny had a faint smile on her lips as she finally tilted her head upward to look at him but her eyes was moist and a tear threatened to escape her eye. "I know I can't and I know you're not made of glass," she said.

He chuckled slightly. "Good. Now, when are you going to get it into your pretty little head that I'm fine and that nothing is going to happen to me at work?"

It was Jenny's time to chuckle. "I'm sorry, Dennis. I know I'm the worst mother you've met but I love you – so much. I can't bear to lose you."

"You won't lose me, I promise you," he said seriously.

"I know, I'm just being silly –but this could have been your funeral," she returned, fiddling with her wedding ring, her eyes fixing on a spot between her black shoes.

"Listen to me. You won't lose me," he countered seriously. "I will always be the cause of your frustration, being late coming home, working long hours, declining to go on some of your arranged restaurant visits –" He trailed off with a soft laugh and Jenny found herself laughing too.

"Oh, Jen, I've missed that smile," he said as Liz and Jack was approaching them.

"Sergeant Merton," Lane said in acknowledgement.

"Mr. Lane," Dennis returned politely. "I've been meaning to talk to you but I wouldn't intrude on your family gathering."

Jack waved his hand. "It's all right, I'll have plenty of time to catch up with them," he said with a careful smile. "Look, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier –"

"Let's forget about that," Dennis interrupted. "Anyway, I think you'll be pleased to know that the money found on Nichols at the time of his arrest will be considered Jeremy's property and therefore yours since he made you the heir."

Jack's cautions smile widened into a grin of gratitude and, smitten by the mood, Dennis couldn't help but give a smile.

"The sum of money will be enough for you to make some hefty restoration to your property, Mr. Lane, and I think this time the locals will help you anyhow they can. If not I'm sure Doctor Merrick can persuade them," he suggested looking at Liz, standing next to Jack.

Jack chuckled. "She and your wife have turned my farm upside down, in a good way," he let on.

"I'm glad everything will sort out for you," Dennis said. "Also I'd like to thank you for your contribution to cracking the case. Jeremy's letter will be the – he caught himself as he was about to say the nail in the coffin – last piece of evidence making the puzzle whole."

Jack nodded sadly. "I just wish it had ended differently," he said.

"We all do," Dennis returned as he extended his good arm to shake the goat farmer's hand.

Jack gently shook hands with the sergeant and excused himself. Jenny, Dennis and Liz watched him go as the faint sound of Amazing Grace reached their ears.

"Now," Jenny spoke up suddenly with finality as a cunning smile spread over her lips. "Where's Ben?"

"Right here," a familiar voice returned and they all turned around to see him approaching.

"Everything set?" Jenny asked him cryptically causing both Dennis and Liz to frown suspiciously.

"Yes, four tickets to the Castle for a little wine and dine, two bookings at the adjoining Hotel and SPA -" he said triumphantly as Jenny jumped slightly in delight.

"Since you two are such workaholics we thought we'd surprise you," Jenny explained. "Don't you worry Liz, the surgery is being taken care of by Doctor Smith from the Hospital. He'd always wanted to try his hands at a country practice so he jumped at the opportunity."

"I see, Liz returned slightly baffled.

"And the Police Station can do without you my dear sergeant for a little while longer. They know where you are going to be, besides you're not cleared for duty," she said.

Instead of being angry for making plans over his head like he might have been earlier Dennis found himself laughing softly, while Liz shook her head with a smile.

"I believe, Doctor Merrick, that we've been outplayed," Dennis said with a smirk.

"It appears so, Sergeant Merton," Liz concurred cunningly. "I don't think we should keep them waiting."

"Absolutely not. Who are we to say no to something like that?" He returned as Jenny slid her arm around the small of his back, gently pushing him toward the direction of the waiting cab.

Liz walked ahead to catch up with Ben who was standing talking with the cab driver already.

"I suppose there's no time like the present," Dennis said softly as Jenny leaned toward him, to whisper in his ear.

"I love you, Dennis Merton."

"I love you too, Jenny Merton," he said, looking genuinely happy, his smile and the mischievous gleam in his eyes taking her back to their wedding day; back to that moment which had been the happiest in her life.

OOOOOO

The end

 _/ I don't know when I'll be back writing Heartbeat – if I'll be back, but I want to thank you, all of you, who's been reading and reviewing ;) I've enjoyed hearing from you and loved your encouragement._


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